Pieces
by pratz
Summary: Sometimes people leave marks, she learns. Most of the time people leave pieces. (Alex/Piper, pre-breakup, round-the-world days)
1. welcome to lesbianville

**Pieces**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: _Orange is the New Black_ belongs to Jenji Kohan and her amazing team. _Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women's Prison_ belongs to Piper Kerman.

AN: I have some drabbles on my Tumblr, and I guess it's about time to flesh out those drabbles into a more coherent story. Since this is The Fandom that is Growing Strong, your feedback will be much appreciated!

-.-.-.-

_pieces of you  
__pieces of you  
__lie in me inches deep_

-.-.-.-

**one - welcome to lesbianville**

'Welcome to Lesbianville USA!'

Piper wants to laugh at the bumper sticker on the car in front of hers. Really, Northampton and its terrific tolerance for each and every thing rainbow are amazing. Perhaps only good ol' San Francisco can rival it. It doesn't matter if one is a little bit swinging for the other team, falling on the far end of the Kinsley's Scale, or downright unicorn. Everybody is embraced in Northampton's ample bosom.

_Including you,_ her inner voice pipes up.

What? No!

_Not yet, perhaps?_

Fuck you.

_No, fuck _you_, Piper Chapman. You're twenty-two, single, and considering calling a stranger who approached you first. Which is stupid, if I may say. One, she's a hot stranger. Two, why are you considering anyway?_

Because she is not prepared?

Well.

She is not prepared, not even the slightest bit.

She comes to that bar that day with a half-assed resume, looking for a job because her pride is too big to handle asking money from her mother. She is prepared for one or two raunchy comments or catcalls from bar patrons. She is prepared to suck face and commit herself to whatever table waiting is available for her.

She is not prepared to get a phone number from a girl who declares that she is working for an international drug cartel, dresses like young Linda Ronstadt slash Amy Winehouse sans the creepy eyes and the washed-up expression, and blatantly says she wants to know more about her.

Alex Vause. Like 'pause' but with a V because she likes the V.

Oh great. Now she's grinning in the middle of Smith College's parking lot because of that crude joke which doesn't sound crude at all coming from Alex's mouth.

_See? This is why I'm calling you stupid. She wants you to call her; you keep looking at that napkin as if it's a piece of the goddamn Commandment logs. She's not going to be in Northampton forever; you keep stalling taking the first step. Baby step. That's all you need to take._

Then what?

Piper stares at the paper napkin for a long time, seeing the number and, most importantly, registering the red lipstick mark at the corner, left by the most inviting pair of lips she's ever seen.

She draws a deep breath.

Then this.

Fuck baby step. This is one giant leap for mankind.

And she dials the number.

_Welcome to Lesbianville indeed, self._

-.-.-.-


	2. are you gonna go my way

**Pieces**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: _Orange is the New Black_ belongs to Jenji Kohan and her amazing team. _Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women's Prison_ belongs to Piper Kerman.

AN: Reviews are treasured and cuddled.

-.-.-.-

_pieces of you  
__pieces of you  
__lie in me inches deep_

-.-.-.-

**two: are you gonna go my way?**

Winter in Massachusetts is Piper's least favorite thing, really. Make no mistake: she loves Pioneer Valley to no end, but she can live without the chilly mornings, the icy nights, the occasional tropical cyclones, and the ofttimes blizzards.

Speaking of blizzards...

She is jolted harshly as her feet touch the wooden floor of her apartment. Teeth chattering, she walks to the kitchen to make herself her morning coffee. It's quiet. Her roommate hasn't back from spending her winter break with her family. From the window, she can see the world of white outside, remainder of last night's unwanted but unsurprising blizzard. Gone is the picturesque charm of Northampton; her neighborhood looks like the Man Above has just dumped a giant bucket of inedible marshmallows out of spite. The snow cleaning team sure will have a field day—snicker, snicker.

A now yellowish piece of napkin plastered onto the door of her fridge catches her eyes.

Aha. Now that's something she can do.

She goes back to her bed, looking for her phone and pressing number 2 for a quick dial.

Alex's gruff, sleepy voice wafts through the fairly decent after-the-storm transmission.

"Good morning," she begins.

"I'm still sleeping." And the jerk has the nerves to hang up on her.

"The fuck," she mumbles, dialing again. One ring, two ring.

After the third ring, Alex picks up, still cranky and barely awake. "Jesus, what do you want?"

What does she want, eh? Answering _'I just want to say good morning'_ will make her sound annoying. Answering _'I just want to remind you to stay warm in this weather'_ will make her sound somehow thoughtful, but no less annoying. Answering _'I just want to hear your voice'_ will definitely make her sound needy—even though that's the truth.

So she settles with a lame, "Jesus just wants to let you know that this apartment is freezing."

"Turn on the goddamn heater."

"I did, I did. But it's still cold."

There's a rustling sound followed by a muffled groan. "Told you not to buy that one. Invest in good stuff."

She nods even though Alex can't see her. "Yeah. Okay. I just want to alert you of this suckity post-blizzard weather."

"Been doing that since last night."

That is unexpected. "When did you get back in town?

"Told you: last night." Alex yawns, and Piper imagines that she rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. "Look, I need to catch some sleep. See you later? Bye."

Once again, the jerk hangs up on her, but this time Piper is not exasperated. A see-you-later is the best she can get from Alex the Charming Jerk—charming, but still a jerk—when she's not at her best state. In the last two weeks, it's something she has learned amongst other things about Alex.

Who is not a morning person. Who has the knack to spot insincerity in people. Who has the ability to call people out on their bullshit without even flinching.

Her phone beeps, indicating a text message. From the jerk. _'Cook something, but let me handle the wine because I'm the Robert Parker __to your Gordon Ramsay_.'

Who, despite her affinity for dry humor, knows the way to make Piper smile.

-.-.-.-

Five o'clock in the evening, the jerk, ever punctual, shows up on her door.

Okay, she needs to think of a new nickname for Alex. Charming Jerk works just fine, but with the four-year old Cono Sur 20 Barrels cabernet sauvignon in her hand now it seems the nickname needs to be upgraded. Persistently Dedicated Charming Jerk, perhaps? Too long?

Alex kisses her on the cheek and ushers herself in, cursing as the mild blast of chill hits her the minute she's in the apartment. "You seriously need to evacuate from this fucked up place."

Piper takes the limited edition wine from her, feigning a hurt expression. "Two weeks ago you called my resume a total bullshit. Now it's my apartment. Next is going to be my food, I guess?"

Alex smirks. "Nah, never that." She sniffs the wonderful aroma in the air. "Heavenly."

"It's lamb with rosemary and port," she says. "Go sit and find whatever show you want, and I'll bring the plates." She busies herself setting the lamb on two plates, bringing them to the couch, and going back to get two wine glasses. Alex is standing in the middle of her living room, examining her bookshelf. "Find something you like?"

"I'm more of a non-fiction person," Alex says, sitting next to her on the couch.

The moment Alex takes off her trench coat—a shearling-collared, cotton gabardine Burberry that hugs her waist and accentuates the dark spill of her hair— and shows what she wears underneath, Piper knows that Alex's new nickname has to be Charming Sexy Jerk. Because, well, anyone who can wear a tight-fitting Pink Floyd t-shirt with a low neck line—like really, really low—and look like a model instead of a slut deserves to be called that, right?

Piper clears her throat and raises her glass for a toast. "Here's to a day when you hopefully start reading fiction."

The Charming Sexy Jerk grins. "Amen to that."

Their dinner is devoured as an episode of _That 70's Shows_ plays on Piper's TV. Alex doesn't seem to pay attention to the show, and halfway through the show, she flips to _The West Wing_.

Piper raises her eyebrows. "You don't strike me as a person who likes politics."

"I prefer political adrenaline rush to a sitcom about dating your redhead neighbor," Alex says, though she still doesn't pay attention to the TV. "All the deals, the conflicts. Blew my mind. Politic is an honorable adventure, you know? That's quoting Evan Thomas quoting Bobby Kennedy quoting Lord Tweedsmuir for you."

She blanches. "I didn't know you're into the Kennedys."

Alex laughs, though not condescending. "You're a Massachusetts native. You don't only hear shits about them, right? Come on."

She elbows Alex, raising her glass to her lips. "Smartass."

Alex leans toward her, and their height difference, though only a couple of inches, lands Piper in an uncomfortable position of staring right at Alex's lips. "And that's one more thing you know about me," she says, half-whispering.

_Shit_, Piper thinks, scooting backward, but the motion only gets her hair to fly and get caught between her lips and her glass. With a surprising gentleness, Alex reaches out to smooth Piper's hair and slip them behind her ear. She's so, so close. _Shit_.

Alex appears to notice her uneasiness, because she leans backward to give Piper some distance. "No funny business. I get it, I get it." Smirking, she pushes her horn-rimmed glasses up her hair.

Piper stares. And Alex knows it. And that's why she smirks even more.

_Shiiit_. Charming Sexy Jerk is now officially Charming Super Sexy Jerk.

Piper coughs to hide her embarrassment. "Is that new?"

"Yeah. Lost the old ones in a bar in Santorini."

"Santorini? As in Santorini, Greece?" She almost can't hold back from gushing out her enthusiasm. "I've always wanted to go to Greece, you know. I promise myself one day I'll leave this place and go on a round-the-world trip."

"Then do. Just go. Leave this crappy city."

"Hey, no lesbian shall offend Lesbianville," she mock-scolds.

"I can take you to Greece." Alex takes a sip of her wine. "If you want," she adds quickly. "One day."

"If you travel a lot, why don't you wear contacts?" Piper says. "I mean, it's more convenient."

Alex shrugs. "Don't like it."

"Why? Have a dirty little secret you need to hide, Clark Kent?"

Alex tips down her glasses, and her eyes are intense behind them. "Maybe."

_Fuck Clark Kent. This is fucking Kryptonite. She's fucking Kryptonite. If she's staring at me like that again, I'm gonna jump her and I won't be responsible for—stop, Piper Chapman. Stop._

Now even closer despite her earlier words of promising no funny business, Alex squints as she notices a faint line of gash that runs across two of Piper's knuckles. "Had a shitty week?"

"Oh no, not like that. Just a small brawl in the bar and I happened to get caught a bit in the end." She tries to laugh it off, but Alex's eyes are growing cold. "No, seriously. It's a normal post-Red Sox discussion."

"Fucking assholes need to know Red Sox isn't everything," Alex grumbles.

"Hey, take that back." Piper mock-smacks her. "As a Massachusetts native, I'll let you know that sometimes Red Sox is everything."

Alex doesn't say anything; she takes Piper's hand in hers and brings it. To her. Fucking. Lips. Piper's eyes widen and only her dignity keeps her jaw from dropping, because the Charming Super Sexy Jerk kisses her healed knuckles gently, once, twice, while she stares at Piper fixedly, smolderingly over the top of her horn-rimmed glasses.

She finishes with a small, wet lick as the tip of her tongue grazes Piper's skin. "There," she says softly. "A kiss to make it better."

When Piper can speak again, her voice is rough. "Was that—" she swallows, "was that you being your charming self or you seducing me?"

"Both." Alex laughs a little. "Did that work?"

"Which one?"

"Both."

Piper draws in a deep, deep breath—she's been doing that more often lately when it comes to Alex. "Yes." She takes another deep breath. "Dear God, _yes_."

Alex surprises her again when she leans closer to kiss Piper on the cheek, grinning. "Not today, though." She takes a glance at the clock over Piper's head. "I should get going."

Piper walks her out, and that's when she sees Alex's brand new ride: a shiny, though snow-covered, white Miata[1] with an equally shiny set of winter wheels.

"Holy shit."

"Holy shit indeed." Alex grins. "I'll take you out for a ride next time."

There are so many questions Piper has in mind she can write a Master's thesis on the mystery that is Alex Vause, but she knows better than to overwhelm Alex. She settles by asking, "Just who are you, really?"

Laughing, Alex plays with the temple of her glasses. "Someone has to keep a secret, Miss Lane."

"One day?"

"One day," she replies, "Pipes."

Pipes, huh.

She likes that.

-.-.-.-

Alex comes knocking on her door again in spring, her Miata ready behind her.

"Where to, Miss?" she asks as she sits behind the wheel and Piper settles herself next to her. Again, the jerk can still shine in her effortless rugged glory, and Piper can't help a shiver as Alex's hand finds her knee and squeezes. _No funny business my foot_, she thinks. Hell, she _wants_ the funny business, being left with only phone communication for almost four whole months[2] for whatever non-funny business Alex runs for whatever international traders.

"Playing Jack after Clark?"

Alex puts on her seatbelt, winking. "Even Kate Winslet isn't gonna do you justice."

_This flirting, being-her-charming-self jerk. Two can play this game, you know._ Piper places her hand over Alex's and leans closer to whisper in her ear, "And Jack and Clark have the wrong part for me." Alex chokes, caught off guard, and for the first time Piper relishes in gaining the upper hand. "Ask me again."

Alex turns on the radio, finding a station that is playing Lenny Kravitz's _Are You Gonna Go My Way_[3], and her eyes are solemn for once behind her glasses. "So... where to, Miss?"

"Unto whatever end."

-.-.-.-

Footnote:

[1] From memoir!_Orange_: it's the car that real life Alex (Nora) drives.

[2] From memoir!_Orange_: that's the original duration of real life Piper and Alex (Nora) are in a world trip together.

[3] From memoir!_Orange_: it's the song when real life Alex (Nora) first takes Piper out.


	3. a shakespearean cliche

**Pieces**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: _Orange is the New Black_ belongs to Jenji Kohan and her amazing team. _Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women's Prison_ belongs to Piper Kerman.

-.-.-.-

_pieces of you  
__pieces of you  
__lie in me inches deep_

-.-.-.-

**three – a shakespearean cliche**

Alex, Piper finds out, has this maddening habit of never listening to a radio station for more than ten minutes.

"Would you please stop changing the station?" she finally asks, exasperated.

Alex lets go of the radio panel, her hand now back to the wheel. "Fine," she scowls. "Go ahead. Be my guest and listen to fucking dickheads yapping about Bush's possible second term."[1]

Piper takes that as an invitation, but the second she randomly picks a station an inappropriate slur of _'she leakin, she's soakin' wet, shake it like a salt shaker, shake it like a salt shaker'_ comes unfiltered. Flustered, she quickly changes the station and settles on a rather lame evergreen one.

Alex's smirk is nothing but pure Charming-Super-Sexy-Jerk evil. "Yin Yang Twins too raunchy for Miss Prim?"

Piper slouches on her seat, her arm bumping against the door as Alex turns to a parking building on Dartmouth Street. "I'm surprised you're familiar with hip hop."

"I can surprise you even more," she says easily as she backs the Miata smoothly into a parking space, "given a proper time and place."

Piper follows her out of the car. "Speaking of which, I always find your salt shaker tattoo fascinating." _As in I-want-to-hump-you-from-behind-and-lick-the-sweat- off-of-you-as-we-roll-around-between-the-sheets fascinating—_stop_. Jesus. What the hell, Chapman. Damn song is messing with my mind._

_Or you're just horny,_ her mind supplies dryly.

_Shut. Up._

"Oh, this?" Alex reaches around to touch her left shoulder, which is uncovered by the tank-top dress she decides to wear today. "It's my first tat."

They exit the building, and Piper can't help admiring the way Alex moves with easy confidence. That's not even walking, she thinks. That's strutting. Swaggering. Prowling.

"What made you decide to get tatted?"

Alex purses her bottom lip. "Fuck if I remember. Fun, I guess?"

"Why a salt shaker?"

"In the mood for an interview today, eh?" Alex deliberately winks at a college student who looks at her in awe as they stand at a crossroad in busy-as-usual Back Bay, waiting for the crossing sign. The jerk does it on purpose, Piper knows. "What? You expect me to get a jalapeno tat? Not even I can rock a Mexican look, you know."

_No, but you rock the sex goddess look and claim the top spot from Joan Jett_, Piper thinks.

Copley Square Farmers Market is their first stop today. Alex has teased her when she first tells her that she wants to check the Tuesday-and-Friday-only market. _WASPy, yuppy, and now holistic hipstery, too?_ she has asked with a smile that belies the insult, and even though she may not have been as enthusiastic as Piper, Alex agrees—hence their first day out.

Which, Piper notes, does _not_ feel like a day out at all.

Alex doesn't open the door of her car for her. Doesn't hold the parking building's door for her. Doesn't comment on her Peter Jackson's elf-styled side braid. Doesn't try to touch her again after that short-lived knee squeeze when they leave Piper's apartment. Hell, she's even more interested in fussing with radio stations during their almost two-hour ride from Northampton to Boston.

She wonders if she does something wrong or if she's too blunt.

But. That. Doesn't explain anything. Damn it.

She stops in front of a stand that sells rhubarbs, Alex half a foot away behind her. "I always love rhubarbs, you know. My grandparents—they live in the south—always make rhubarb custard cake for Cal and I. Southern style, of course."

Alex nods to acknowledge her, but instead of answering, she walks to the next stand that sells various types of apples and there's a tiny pang in Piper's heart. She has kind of guessed that Farmers Market isn't really Alex's cup of tea, but this isn't like what she has expected. Sighing, she goes back to the rhubarb seller and buys some for cake baking later. Baking is nice, she thinks. Baking never approaches a fresh-from-the-oven graduate in a bar, admits to seducing her, and downright gives her a cold shoulder in the middle of a crowded market. Baking is never a jerk.

Alex clears her throat behind her, and Piper turns around.

A smile plays on Alex's lips as she offers Piper a ripe looking, yellow apple. "For the fairest."

Piper's jaw drops.

This.

Fucking.

Jerk!

She isn't sure whether to stomp in irritation or be relieved or weep in joy because of one Alex Vause.

_Or flat out bone her_, her treacherous mind pipes up again.

Moving her paper bag of rhubarbs to an arm, she takes the apple from Alex's palm. "Should I change my name to Helen now?" she says.

Alex adjusts the temple of her glasses—a gesture Piper now knows as a sign of uneasiness. "Nah, Piper suits you," she says softly. "I like it just fine."

Sweet Helen and Paris and all the gods, goddesses, and demigods of Ancient Greek. Piper is _this_ close to swooning. So she isn't the only one nervous about their day out. Confident badass Alex Vause is, too? Because of her? Swoon fuck yeah.

Alex tilts her head and points at a direction with her chin. "I know you want to get something to eat in North End, but do you mind if we stop by a bookstore? It won't take long, I promise."

"No, no, it's fine. I don't mind," she answers quickly—perhaps even a bit too quickly. There's always a good chance of knowing someone better from knowing the kind of books she enjoys, after all. Besides, she can use some time to pull herself together. Really, Alex has this air about her that makes her want to either grin widely or scream in frustration. Alex is not a merry-go-round; she's a roller coaster—of Cedar Point's Top Thrill Dragster level, that is.

This time, Alex holds the door as they reach Commonwealth Books, a small, antiquated bookstore on Milk Street. "After you, my lady," she says.

The bookstore is small and filled with old books and manuscripts to the ceiling. Piper loves the place immediately, the kind of place and smell she associates with Diagon Alley and the Hogwarts library, because hello! Even a Smith graduate can fantasize!

Which now makes her curious of what books Alex, the self-declared non-fiction reader, enjoys.

Then, as if knowing what Piper is thinking, Alex says, "I'm currently reading _The Tao of Pooh_.[2] I'll check if they have similar books."

Alex turns the corner to the philosophy section—when will she stop surprising her, Piper wonders—and she herself turns to the theater section. Not only does she major in theater[3], but also she always has a soft spot for plays. People always play roles, after all.

She's so engrossed in browsing the Eugene O'Neill collection that Alex needs to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention. "You're done?"

Alex shrugs. "Too many good books here I might even trade you for. Temptation, temptation."

She laughs and returns the book she is holding to the shelf, because she knows that dilemma all too well. "Do you like drama? As in real plays, I mean."

"I read a few," Alex replies. "Let's see." She bends to pick a book from the S shelf. Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_. "Too common for you, I believe?"

Piper pushes playfully at Alex's shoulder—the first contact initiated in hours, and she's glad that Alex doesn't mind. "Peasant."

"Why yes, college girl," Alex returns dryly. "Fucking barely-passing-puberty teenager falls in love with a sheltered dimwit of a princess." She snorts. "Shakespeare must get off from such star-crossed lovers cliché."

"You summarize it well." She takes the book from Alex. "Any particular lines you remember?"

"Hmm. Yeah? No? Something with sin and hands and lips. You know, right?"

Of course. She flips the pages to said scene. "Act 1, Scene 5," she begins, opening the book wider so Alex can read along. "'O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.'

Alex's eyes meet hers. "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.'

And now the aisle is too narrow, the stare piercing, the light hold on her elbow burning.

She swallows, wets her lips, and reads more. "'Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.'

Alex is so close. Too close. Too damn close.

Piper can't breathe.

"'Then have my lips the sins that they have took,' Alex whispers.

William Fucking Shakespeare be damned, she lets out a strangled moan as Alex's lips touch hers. Gently, at first. A tentative brush, once. Then a firmer press, once and once more. At the fuller contact, she grabs Alex by the back of her neck, two-inch height difference be forgotten, too public of a place be overlooked. A wet swipe of tongue against her lips. Permission, granted. More than granted, apparently. Welcome. Wanted. Needed.

Alex is the one who pulls back first, and Piper swears she is very, very tempted to whack that shit-eating grin off of her face.

"You plan this, don't you?"

"Becoming a Shakespearean cliché? No."

"Bet you've been wanting to kiss me like that since Day One." She smacks Alex's shoulder for good measure. "Jerk."

Chuckling, Alex catches her hand and traps it between their bodies. "Bet you've been wanting to call me that since Day One."

"If you didn't run off to Greece and Benin [4], I might have done it sooner."

Alex grins even wider. "Where's the fun of it?"

_In your pants,_ she wants to say.

They leave Commonwealth Books and head to North End. Alex obviously knows her way around, because whenever Piper sees a long line of patrons outside a restaurant, Alex points out said restaurant's famous specialties. But that's not even the biggest plus point about her. Honestly, every time Alex opens her mouth to say something, Piper just wants to smack her mouth—with her own.

It's a rather late lunch, but the Italian oyster restaurant Alex chooses is cozy and the meal is worth the long line. It's not until their check comes that Piper frowns. Alex secures the check even before Piper has a chance to look at it.

She raises her eyebrows. "We can go Dutch."

"No fucking way."

"I thought this is a day out."

"Well, I've upgraded it to a date."

Bless this sweet Italian white wine and curse this sneaky jerk for making her choke.

The walk back from North End to Copley Square takes about thirty minute, but it's only because Alex walks slower and takes her time to touch Piper here and there. A light push on the small of her back. Fingertips grazing on the gap between her top and her jeans. Arms touching whenever they stop to wait for a crossing sign. An over-the-shoulder look whenever Piper stops in front of a craft store to admire its displayed handicrafts along Newbury Street.

She's going nuts, driven to madness by—by—this fucking tease of a—of a _jerk_!

_Wow, really? You can't even find another derogating name to call her with in your vocabulary? I wonder where your Smith brain goes,_ her minds mocks.

_Shut. The. Fuck. Up._ She takes a deep breath once she sits on the passenger seat.

"Hey, Pipes."

"What?" She almost snaps.

"Wanna kiss again?"

Oh, Alex has to be so proud of her ability to nail that sentence as if she's just announcing how crowded Copley Square Farmers Market today, doesn't she? Piper's head snaps up quicker than she can say yes, and she barely has the time to process as she flings herself over the center console and meets Alex halfway in a series of clashing lips, teeth, and tongues.

"Fucking asshole," she hisses against Alex's mouth.

"It's." Kisses. "Mutual." More kisses. "Darling." And more kisses.

Then Alex's fingertips graze the beginning of the swell of her breasts, and the touch makes Piper break the kiss with a jolt.

Alex, if anything, is perceptive. "Too much?" Her thumb rubs gently at Piper's nape, this time more soothing than arousing, a smile on her lips. "One step at a time, then."

Flustered and torn between wanting more and taking it slow, Piper can only nod. Alex starts the car, and the radio blares to life with the same evergreen radio on. Piper puts on her sunglasses and leans back onto the headrest. She still can't trust herself to speak, lest she says something reckless and causes Alex to lose focus and swerve to the roadside. Damn libido, Piper curses mentally.

"So," Alex begins, "what's your plan for summer?"

She sighs. "My roommate asks if I'm interested to go on a road trip with her. You know, go coast to coast, visit the museums, get wasted every night, and come back totally broke."

"Neat." Alex nods. "So totally tapping your hipster side, eh?" She takes the Massachusetts Turnpike toll road, her driving as smooth as her walking. Piper wonders what else she will be smooth in. Mind in the gutter, why yes. No regret. "Where to?"

"San Fran." She turns to look at Alex. God, she's gorgeous illuminated by the sunset over the Connecticut River. "What about you?"

"Well, I guess San Fran isn't that bad."

It takes a minute for Piper to register it, and Joan Baez aptly starts singing on the radio, _'Please come to Boston in the springtime..._.'

Alex gives her a thin smile. "We can rent a house, go to whatever museums you like, get drunk every night, but come back totally not broke. Sounds fun enough to me."

"No shit," she breathes, sitting upright now. This is not because of that yellow apple or Shakespeare or Boston, right? Because, well. Fuck. "Alex, I'm fucking serious."

"I'm fucking serious, too."

Piper looks at Alex as if it's the first time. She's just a stranger in a bar. An occasional guest in her moldy apartment. A day out companion. And today a date. This? Fuck, this will change her life, won't it? Alex will change her life, won't she?

"So... would you?"

'_Please come to Boston...'_ Joan Baez continues singing.

Correction, she self-supplies. She already has.

'_She said, No, would you come home to me?'_

"Yes," she whispers. "Yes, I would."

-.-.-.-

Footnote:

1 TV!_Orange_, 1x03, the bar scene where they first meet ten years prior to the prison time. Judging from this detail, I take it that TV!_Orange_ takes place in 2013 instead of 2004 like memoir!_Orange_.

2 TV_!Orange_, 1x06.

3 memoir!_Orange_.

4 memoir!_Orange_: real life Alex (Nora) goes to Benin to see the drug lord whom her sister is dating and that's when she starts her drug-dealing business.

-.-.-.-

AN: San Francisco _is_ important, ladies (and probably gentlemen). In the memoir, it's where real life Alex asks Piper to come with her to Bali. Which the TV series adapts to become the precious strip-dancing Piper slash gaze smoldering bookish Alex slash I-want-you-to-come hotness. Which broke me, honestly. Which by now you would've realized it's what's going to be in a few chapters from now. Mind in the gutter, anyone?

I'm trying to be time accurate as possible. This takes place in 2003, so let me know if I slip somewhere. Also, did anyone catch a dig on Laura Prepon in the previous chapter? And yes, I love pop culture references.

-.-.-.-


	4. best served with alex on top

**Pieces**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: _Orange is the New Black_ belongs to Jenji Kohan and her amazing team. _Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women's Prison_ belongs to Piper Kerman.

-.-.-.-

_pieces of you  
__pieces of you  
__lie in me inches deep _

-.-.-.-

**four – best served with alex on top**

Morning, Piper learns, is best served with Alex on top.

Or under or beside or inside. Or whatever, that is. She can't really decide.

"Alex—damn it—more—"

"Hmm?"

"—breakfast—_shit_—"

"I'm about to have it, aren't I?"

So leave it to one red-haired bombshell [1] to enter the apartment out of the blue, calling out, "Vause! Are you still sleeping, you lazy ass—_Christ_!"

Piper shrieks, startled and embarrassed for being caught in the act, and tries her damnedest to cover herself. Which, she realizes with a bigger start and embarrassment, is not an easy task to do, considering her shirt is nowhere to see and her shorts are stuck around her knees. She ends up pulling a still-fully-clothed Alex sideway to shield her and at least gain some modesty.

The redhead bombshell has the nerves to leer at her. "Nice butts, blondie," she singsongs wolfishly before paying attention to Alex. "New beau, eh? Well, I guess it's all the more reasons I need to return these." She puts down a set of keys on the dining table, then grimacing immediately. "I wouldn't wanna know what you've done on this table, Vause."

Alex, still being used by Piper to cover her half naked form, just smirks. "Right. You'd rather watch."

"Tempting, but no, thanks." Laughing, the redhead bombshell turns to leave. "Oh, and by the way, Fahri might drop by later."

It's only after the redhead bombshell slams the apartment's door shut that Alex turns to look at Piper, arms still holding her loosely. "Now... where was I?"

"Smack. That. Infuriating. Grin. Off." Piper does the public service by really smacking Alex on the chin. Though still blushing, she can't help the small bubble of satisfaction of seeing Alex wince. "This is all your fault."

"Oh, pardon me then for not being able to reign myself over the temptation of kitchen sex."

"Do you even realize how embarrassing it is to be seen naked—"

"Half naked."

"—fucking _half_ naked by a stranger?"

Alex raises an eyebrow.

"And who the hell is she and how could she have the key to _your_ apartment?"

Alex raises the other eyebrow.

"Alex!"

The jerk laughs a little, arms now loosely around Piper's waist. "Okay, if you're more interested in talking than fucking, here you go. First, am I embarrassed? Fuck, no. And you shouldn't, too. You're sexy. Why should you be embarrassed? And you certainly didn't complain last night," she pauses for a while then adds saucily, "not even once out of seven times." Seeing that Piper blushes even more, she leans to kiss her hair. "And two, she's a business partner who used to live like a leech here. I'll introduce you someday."

Piper wants to ask if it's common to give _a fucking business partner_ a key to one's living space, but Alex steps closer, now fully pressed against her front with her chin on Piper's shoulder. Sighing, she relents and winds her arms around Alex shoulders. "Let's just have breakfast."

Alex helps her hop down from the kitchen counter—which Piper will never see the same way again—and retrieves Piper's shirt from the floor. She waits until Piper finishes making herself decent before leaning to steal a quick peck on the lips. "I'm serious, though."

"About?"

"You're sexy."

She's supposed to be immune to this jerk's advance by now, right? Nope. Not happening. Not even close, it seems. Why is this jerk so irresistible again, she wonders. "Are you always this flirty so early in the morning?"

"I'm not flirty," Alex rebuts. "I'm direct."

"Shut up."

-.-.-.-

Redhead bombshell near-disaster aside, Piper seems to strike another luck with another redhead that day. The fact that said redhead being her best friend since high school doesn't help when Alex doesn't even bother to hide her dislike to one Polly Harper.

Well, imagine her gigantic, tremendous, colossal surprise—_sic_ sarcasm, of course—to find that the feeling is mutual.

"I'm being pissy because you're seeing an asshole."

Great. Now she has to defend her asshole of a—what? Fling? Fuck buddy? Girlfriend? _What_?

Polly glares at her, waiting for her response.

"I think you're overreacting a bit," she says, then adding a little jab, "Molly."

Her best friend rolls her eyes. "There's a weird energy in here—not to mention she's loaded and she's—what? Like thirty?"

Truth be told, that she doesn't know either. Charming Jerk is definitely in for an interrogation later.

"Trust fund?"

Trust fund? Okay. Well. "No, she imports... things." She forces herself not to wince at the lame last word. _Time to fight back, Chapman._ "I can't believe you're giving me shit for this. You dated your teacher."

"Adjunct professor," Polly corrects her.

_Oh for fuck's sake._ "I. Really. Like. Her." Which, in normal Piper Chapman standard tone, should not be interpreted as nothing but Back. The. Fuck. Off. She's sure Polly knows it as well.

Knows but isn't convinced, apparently. "Do you like her... or her things?"

Now this is starting to annoy her. "Oh, I get it. You're feeling threatened."

"Oh Jesus, fuck off. I'm just looking out for you."

"Well, don't," she finally snaps. "I'm happy."

"Well, then don't expect me to be there when you're not happy anymore," Polly snaps back.

Bitch masters the art of snarking, Piper thinks, rather amused. But of course. Bitches of a feather flock together. "Okay, I won't." But Polly is still her best friend, and she loves Polly for sticking by her. "But you will be." She smirks—not yet with a masterly performance like Alex, though. That woman's smirk is of another level. "Because you love me."

Good ol' Polly sighs in defeat, smiling in return. "Of course I do, you stupid lesbian."

"You spoiled bitch." Her smirk blooms into a full grin. And hey, a little bragging will do no harm, right? So let's. "I came seven times last night."

Polly's expression turns from relieved to horrified to deadpanned and finally to disgusted from the purposeful TMI moment. "Well, that's just excessive."

She relishes in the turn of events, but she can't help stealing a glance or two at where Alex has disappeared earlier to play hostess for an ominous looking man. Fahri, Alex has introduced him earlier. Her business partner. Yet those two look like people with, quoting Polly, loads on their shoulders. No, she's _not_ jealous—not of the redhead bombshell from this morning and surely not of one Mister Mustache. Why should she? Alex is gay with a capital G, so Piper doesn't have to throw a hissy fit about her male business partner. Right? Right?

Well, perhaps a little fit will do. Later, that is.

Thus that's why post-party she's approaching the capital G gay hostess who's slouching on her much prided Italian leather high-back chair in that corner she names her Thinking Corner.

"Hey," she begins.

Alex opens one tired eye. "Hey. C'mere." She waves a hand. "Did you enjoy the party?"

"You sure know how to throw a party." She sits on the armrest, half of herself over Alex's side, one of Alex's arms circling her waist. Touching feels good, yes. Alex touching her feels good, yes. "Tired or drunk?"

"The latter," Alex says. "And spare me the fucking sobriety lecture, thank you."

"Says someone who finished the whole champagne bottle and still couldn't refuse another," she counters. "Do you always drink like that?"

"I'm not an alcoholic, if that's what you think."

"Drinking straight from the bottle, I mean. But thanks for the clarification."

Alex turns to snicker into Piper's side, her face burrowed in the lapels of Piper's loose fitting dress. "Only around people I'm comfortable with."

She pulls back a little, tipping Alex's face up to look her in the eye. "Including me?"

"Including you."

The easy answer doesn't quell the urge to throw a fit, though. "Polly doesn't like you, you know."

"Yeah, and the sky is blue."

Her arms drape themselves over Alex's shoulders, fingers freeing Alex's hair from multiple hairpins and intricate sweeps that make her Bettie bangs. "You didn't have to be so antagonistic."

"She didn't have to be so judgmental." Alex curses under her breath. "You yuppies and your shitty, narrow view of the world."

Huffing, Piper shifts to straddle her capital G gay and capital S stubborn sexy lady. "How old are you?"

"Legal for drinking." Alex's eyes narrow behind her glasses. "What fucking brings this up?"

"Because I don't know you." She cups Alex's face in her hands. "God, I don't know anything about you. Not your age. Not your favorite books. Not your favorite authors—like I only know one because you called me Laura Ingalls Wilder [2] the first time we met. And definitely I don't know anything about your job and your—what—business partners? I don't know a single fucking thing about you, Alex. It's like—it's like you just came storming into my life and became this—this pimple that refused to pop."

Alex blinks once. Then twice. Then laughs heartily. "Fuck, Pipes. A pimple? Really? I... take that as a compliment? Now that's a monologue worth your theater degree."

This drop dead frustrating, drop dead charming, drop dead irresistible jerk! Is there any other way to get back at her besides kissing her? No? Okay.

_You're just looking for justification to kiss her,_ her mind provides a useless comment.

Partially correct, Piper thinks. Because—well—a major point of liking Alex's touch is liking her kisses, too. And who is she to refuse? Drunk or not, Alex does master the art of lip locking just like Bruce Lee does the art of kung fu.

And not to mention her tongue.

Because. Jesusss. Yesss. Preciousss.

Sadly, it is Alex who breaks the tongue kung fu. "Wanna move this to bed?" she offers. "Unless you're inclined to christen my Thinking Corner as Copulating Corner."

Still a bit breathless, Piper steels her will. "You're not getting away from this."

Sighing, Alex slides lower into the chair, legs now straightened and hips pressed against Piper's. Her mouth is set in a grim line. "I'm twenty eight—and about to be twenty nine in three months, but don't even try to give me a birthday present, thank you very much. My favorite author is Jared Diamond. I already told you I like nonfiction better, but since I met you, I've started reading fiction as well, Laura Ingalls Wilder included." She dons a thin smile now. "As for my job, I told you from the very beginning."

Piper is silent for quite a long time. "So that wasn't a joke?"

"No."

"So you're really working for an international drug cartel?"

"Pipes, I may have to run and hide, but I'll never tell a lie." [3]

That somehow inadvertently breaks the tense atmosphere. "Did a strict law enforcement wizard tell you that you must not tell lies?"

"What?"

"Uhm—Harry Potter? The latest book?" [4]

"Now you're fucking spoiling it for me." Alex groans and drops her forehead onto the dip between Piper's collarbones. "No, I took that from a Japanese cartoon."

"And here I thought you're a descendant of Socrates," Piper teases.

Alex lays an open-mouthed kiss on Piper's left collarbone. "Are we done talking now?"

"One more thing." She pulls Alex back to her eye level, earning a groan and a glare. "You're not doing anything harmful, are you? Like—fuck, Alex. If you're dealing heroin or cocaine—I can't imagine—fuck."

"Technically, I don't even deal with the stuff. I'm an importer, not a dealer." [5]

She frowns. "It's like saying you don't drink alcohol, just champagne."

"Okay, look," Alex cuts, rather impatiently, taking off her glasses and hanging them on the low curve of her already low-cut dress. "I'm not trying to take advantage of you, so here's what it's like. I'm not gonna put you in danger. You're attractive, you're smart, and you're sexy as fuck. That's all I'm interested in. _You_. Nothing more, nothing less."

Piper is silent again. "Is this you being direct again?"

Alex is now sporting that butterflies-inducing smirk again. "This is me being flirty."

"Well," Piper drawls coyly, a finger pulling down the strap of Alex's dress, leaving her left shoulder bare and her breast peeking from the fabric, "I happen to appreciate a direct flirting." She peppers a series of kisses on the beginning swell of Alex's breast, nipping the pale skin after. The moan she tears from Alex's mouth is highly satisfying.

"Fuck you, minx," Alex breathes out.

"Oh yes, fuck me," she replies, "before I fuck myself."

"Damn right I will." Her hands are now tight on Piper's waist, pulling Piper's dress up and slipping beneath it. "Let's see if I can make a new record tonight."

"Or," Piper balances herself by leaning forward, resting all her weight on Alex, "let's see if I can settle the score."

Alex's laugh is thick with drunkenness and arousal. "Is that a dare?"

"Well, since we've both taken truth, it only leaves us with dare, right?"

"You bet."

Truth, Piper learns, is also best served with Alex on top.

-.-.-.-

Footnote:

1 TV!_Orange_, 1x02: I'd say that the embrace Alex gives her visitor is rather intimate, don't you think so?

2 TV!_Orange_, 1x03: their first meeting in a bar.

3 As said by Duo Maxwell in _Mobile Suit_ _Gundam Wing_.

4 _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ was first published in June 2003.

5 Another difference TV!_Orange_ makes from memoir!_Orange_. The book mentions that real life Alex (Nora) also dealt heroin sewn into the lapels of her suitcase. I guess the adaptation is needed because the situation is so much different in the 90's.

-.-.-.-

AN: Hey, thank you everyone who has left a comment and/or putting an alert. I really enjoy writing this, so that's why the chapters are coming so fast for my standard. I'm going to NYC next week, so I don't think I'll be able to update as quickly, but I'll try to have Chapter 5 before leaving. And guess what, our favorite stripping scene will be on board. In the meantime, do review. Thanks!


	5. sleep late afternoons

**Pieces**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: _Orange is the New Black_ belongs to Jenji Kohan and her amazing team. _Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women's Prison_ belongs to Piper Kerman.

-.-.-.-

_pieces of you  
pieces of you  
__lie in me inches deep_

-.-.-.-

**five – sleep late afternoons**

_How do you explain living with Alex Vause?_

Piper frowns at the still blank page of the list of pro and con she makes. Apparently, half an hour sitting in unusually quiet Four Barrel isn't enough of a force to make her creativity work. Which is pathetic, she thinks. She is in the heart of creativity, good ol' San Francisco, and she can't even produce a word.

Jack Kerouac is laughing at her from his grave.

Exhaling loudly, she crumples her note and grabs her purses for some bucks to leave for the tip. Four Barrel is Alex's favorite coffee shop, and she is even friend with some of the crew. While Piper herself adores Blue Bottle's Kyoto iced coffee more, she wouldn't want to be seen as rude by the crew in Four Barrel.

Oh hey, that's one to put on the con, she thinks. Alex and her are two citizens from two different worlds. One always wakes up at five for a run, the other never a morning person. One is willing to stand in line a bit longer for good brunch, the other always grumpy and quick to think of other alternative places. One doesn't mind walking for thirty minutes from their apartment in Lower Pacific Heights to The Mission for a great cup of iced coffee, the other frequently complaining that iced coffee is an abomination. Lastly, one is downright rooting for Blue Bottle, and the other for Four Barrel. Ha! That! Every San Fransiscan knows that the coffee shop rivalry is like choosing to worship Madonna or Cindy Lauper in the 80's—no in-between.

Wait.

Piper frowns again.

Their apartment?

Their. Apartment.

Suddenly the coffee feels lodged in her throat.

_Jesus, don't freak out now, Chaps. It's already been two frikkin' weeks. You have flat out lied to your mom, saying you're moving for a travel writing job. You have decided to follow her, going so far from waiting tables in Northampton to waiting tables in San Fran. You have decided to know her more—in the biblical sense. And dear God, is she amazing at knowing you. You have no right to freak out now._

Piper really wants her mind to shut up.

_No. Nope. Nooope. I'm you. And you, me. What I say, you say. What you feel, I feel._

Her mental battle is interrupted as said person discussed knocks on the window next to her from outside. Alex gives her a sign to get out, and Piper is never happier to be distracted from her thinking. Almost rushing, she leaves her wooden chair and once outside, out of habit now, tiptoes to kiss Alex on the cheek, deliberately missing the corner of Alex's mouth by an inch.

"Mm-hmm." Alex smirks. "Somebody needs to aim better."

"Somebody needs to be home more often so I can practice my aim."

"But it seems you've got a way to enjoy the time in my absence." Alex starts leading them to leave Four Barrel. "Fancy seeing you in here instead of in Blue Bottle."

"Just not in the mood for standing in a long line."

"Oh? Never heard you complaining about your favorite before."

"Of course. The complaint has always been coming from you."

Alex's smirk gives way to a wide grin. "I'm loyal to a fault—even about my coffee."

"Yay, yay, nice to meet you, Alex Fault."

"Ha fucking ha," Alex deadpans.

She can't help her smile. God, how did she survive for a week without this? This presence that's irritating and comforting at the same time? This person?

_A point for your pro, perhaps? _her mind pipes up.

_Fuck off_, she scathingly swears inside.

They reach the parking lot and get Alex's rental car to drive home. The Mission is rumbling with summer energy, and in every corner she can see couples being affectionate. Straight and gay alike. Elderly and teen alike. Just... people. How human, Piper thinks. How normal.

The car stops at a red light, and Alex reaches over to open the compartment in front of Piper. "I guess this will be perfect for you," she says, taking out a bud of white flower and slipping it in Piper's hair, just above her ear. Admiring her handiwork, Alex lets her fingers linger on Piper's ear. "And I'm right."

Did an invisible hand just switch on the car heater? Piper wonders.

Jesus.

"Why, thank you, Scott McKenzie," she returns.

The light turns green, and Alex's hand is back on the wheel. The drive home from The Mission only takes fifteen minutes, but Piper is suddenly enveloped by nervousness—which is, according to her mind, pointless. This is not the time to freak out, after all.

"I'll probably be leaving again in a couple of days, though."

"What?" Piper whips her head around quickly, a little too quickly. "Where?"

Alex shrugs nonchalantly. "Bali, Indonesia."

"Oh." She looks away. "That's a nice island down the equator, I heard."

"Yeah."

_Fuck._

"Hey," Alex finally says, reaching out to stop Piper's hand from slipping her hair behind her ear for the seventh time in less than ten minutes. "Chill. What's wrong?"

"I'm thinking of getting a haircut," she says, deciding on a safe topic. "Summer is hotter here than in the Northeast." Then she adds, "I tried to tie my hair earlier, and I looked like a fucking founding father."

Alex chuckles. "Washington or Adams?"

"Fucking Ben Franklin," she grunts just at the same time Alex turns to Franklin Street from Geary Boulevard. How aptly.

Alex parks in their slot in the apartment garage. It is only when Alex heaves her luggage from the trunk and exhales loudly that Piper can see how tired she is. Her movement is sluggish, and her shoulders are tense. She guesses it has something to do with whatever Alex does in Oakland prior to today.

But she never asks, anyway. She never does, and she knows Alex never wants to be asked.

In the elevator, Alex leans against the wall and slings an arm casually over Piper's shoulders. "Any plan for the rest of the day?"

She gives Alex the once-over. "Not really," she says. "I wouldn't want to have you slam your face onto your plate dozing off during dinner."

"Thank you for your concern about my facial health," Alex returns dryly. "No night shift tonight, right? What about tomorrow?"

"The weather channel says it's gonna be raining. I'll just stay at home."

Alex nods. "So... nap now?"

She pokes at Alex's chest. "You nap." Then she pokes at her own. "I read."

"Spoilsport."

Piper rolls her eyes. "Your poor fake pout won't work on me."

Alex drags her luggage behind her after Piper opens and holds the door to their apartment. "Then," she drawls, "what about this?"

A blur, a pounce, and the next thing Piper knows is the whole weight of a sneaky 5'10" jerk tackling her onto the couch.

"Alex!"

Loud laughter rings in the apartment—Alex's and, unintentionally, hers as well.

"Fuck you," she spits out, though without malice.

"That can be arranged later," Alex says between chuckles. "Good grief, woman. Did you eat anything lately? I swear you're thinner than a cardboard standup."

For some reasons, she doesn't even want to struggle against Alex's arms around her midsection, but she ends up doing so. Freeing herself, she sits up, and Alex follows up with a mock coo. Alex rolls onto her back and folds her arms on her chest, still wearing that infuriating smirk, but within minutes she's fast asleep.

"Jesus," Piper mutters. "And to think I let you drive us home in this condition."

She plops onto the chair next to the couch. Now without Alex's incessant bantering, she gives in again to the demand of her train of thought.

Five months. Five long months.

And what exactly does that mean? Well, let's start with a couple of days sexing her life up with a long interval of horrible home alone-ness. First, it's Greece. Then Benin. Then Oakland. Alex works, and she fucking waits. Damn it. She's _not_ a dutiful wife, for fuck's sake.

She sighs.

Haircut first. Think later.

-.-.-.-

Apparently think later she does, because even Alex has to do a double take when she sees Piper enter the apartment.

She winces. "Too plain?" Maybe letting go of the curls is not a good idea.

Alex, freshly showered and dressed in a loose black shirt and pants, adjusts her glasses and stands to approach Piper. Her fingers seem to be on their own volition to run through Piper's hair, now in waves than in curls. "Aren't you gorgeous?" she whispers, kissing Piper's hair.

"I stopped by Sociale." Piper raises the food bag she carries. "Tomato and burrata salad. Then smoked fettuccini with sea urchin, smoked bacon, and soft quail egg. And dessert is cinnamon bombolini."

Alex's appreciative moan is almost pornographic on its own, and it gives Piper a shiver. How on earth this woman can skin-shift from an overgrown party animal with a terrible fake pout to a sex-on-legs bombshell is beyond her.

In some kind of repetition of one of their earlier dates, they're back on the couch with dinner and TV again.

"So how's Oakland?"

"Boring," Alex answers flatly. "What do you expect? It's all fucking work. You? Visiting any interesting place?"

"De Young, the MoMA, the Legion of Honor, couple of cafes."

"Been to Haight-Ashbury? That'll meet your latest interest in everything hipster."

"Nope."

"Yet," Alex corrects, playing with a small sliver of smoked bacon on her plate. "God, Sociale food is such an orgasm in the mouth."

Piper chokes on her salad.

Alex turns to fully face her, grinning. "Too vulgar for you? Would you rather use 'coming?' Or 'ejaculation?'

"Really?" she asks incredulously. "When we're eating?" She stands up, gathers her plate, and leaves the couch. "Let me know when you're an adult again."

"Oh come on, Pipes."

"I'm taking a shower." To add a dramatic effect, she gives Alex's shin a light kick.

"I'm not invited?"

"This," she points at her own curve, "is R-rated material, darla."

The door to the bathroom slams shut as Alex's laughter echoes from the living room. Cursing the jerk who can make sexual innuendos with a straight face, Piper looks at herself in the mirror.

Another point to add on her pro list: _this_.

She can't lose _this_. Not now.

_And what is _this_, actually?_ her mind asks.

_I don't know,_ she replies. _And I don't want to know now. I don't need to know now. I can know later._

She takes a deep breath.

_All that matters is now._

Now or never, right?

Alex has already migrated to bed by the time Piper finishes her shower, book in hand, serious Barnes and Noble's reader-of-the-month expression on her face. With Benny Latimore's [1] voice from the radio and the way Alex sits on the bed, Piper can almost see her in a different lifetime: a bookish scholar-poet with an undying affinity for vinyl records, part of Kerouac's Beat circle, and one of a few pot-smokers who attended Woodstock without wanting to rage against the established government.

"You want me to put your laundry in the closet?"

Alex only gives an affirmative mumbling, not even looking up from her book.

Well, Piper thinks. Now or never. Move and groove, right? Right.

So hips first. Then ass. Then back to hips again. Then ass again.

And that gets her what she wants. The imaginary bookish scholar-poet with an undying affinity for vinyl records needs to be adjusted to the imaginary bookish scholar-poet with an undying affinity for ass.

She throws a sultry look over her shoulder, and the soft thumping that comes as Alex closes her book sounds like a victory bell.

"Get over here."

That heated look behind the glasses. That desire in Alex's darkened eyes. Hot. The room is so hot now. Fucking hot.

Off with the shirt, then.

Alex mouths, 'Come here.' Her finger, her oh-so talented finger curls in a come-hither motion. Fuck. Piper wishes it curls _inside_ her already. And Alex's eyes—double fuck—they're on her like a bird of prey's, a ravenous predator's.

She plasters herself onto one of the bedposts. Alex still doesn't make a move. Fucking black widow plays it cool, but oh how Piper loves this game of tempt-and-run.

"Are you gonna miss me?"

Alex doesn't even hesitate to answer, "Yes." Her eyes can't decide whether to stay on Piper's chest or ass. She shakes her head a little as if to clear her mind. "Too much." Then she adds without missing a heartbeat, "Come with me."

"What?"

"Come to Bali." Firmer this time. More resolute. More of a demand than a request. Alex reaches for the radio's remote control, turning down the volume of Latimore's voice to a mere whisper. She takes off her glasses, and for a moment her eyes are clear with not even a flicker of lust present. "Come with me. I mean it. I'll buy you the plane ticket."

She freezes.

...What.

Did Alex just—

She rustles to get to the bed, kneeling before Alex. "Are you serious?"

Then it's back again. That predatory look. That hungry eyes. That confident, pure sex smirk. A hunter.

Piper holds her breath in anticipation.

Alex shifts to kneel as well, facing her. "Yes." A kiss at the top of her bra-covered breast. A gentle push on the small of her back, making her straddle one of Alex's thighs. "Quit your job. Come with me."

"Wh—I," she pauses, "have to give a notice."

A snicker, not unkind. A pull on her hair, not ungentle. "You're a fucking waitress. You don't have to give a notice." A kiss on her left cheek, not impatient.

"Will I get in trouble?"

Alex retreats. "God, I hope so." Another snicker, more playful than amorous. Then it's her lips dancing on Piper's shoulder and her hand teasing Piper's right breast.

She can't help an involuntary moan. "You know what I mean."

Alex's fingers sweep her hair to the side of her face. God, does she love Piper's new haircut, really. "You don't have to do anything." Her other hand creeps to squeeze Piper's ass, and the hand in Piper's hair leaves to play with the strap of her bra. "You're just there to keep me company."

God, Piper wants so much, but even through the haze of arousal, she can see that Alex wants even so much _more_.

"Alright?"

Alex leans forward for a kiss, her thigh between Piper's legs pressing deliciously against her center. The hand on her ass presses Piper even closer, controlling her movement as one kiss becomes two and three and four and uncountable. Her other hand sneaks towards Piper's shorts.

_Jesus—_

"Come on, babe. I want you to come."

Piper opens her mouth, ready for a comeback, but then Alex's lips are on her neck and her hand dips deeper into her panties and into _her_.

"And I want you to _come_."

—_Chriiist._

Then as quick as Alex's hand introduces itself to her core, it disappears. She's playful, taking her time, waiting. And Piper knows what Alex wants. What she wants. What they both want.

An answer.

An answer that she breathes out amidst gasps and muffled giggles.

Alex rears back and cups her face in her hands. "Yes? Is that a yes?"

There's a bright flicker in Alex's dark eyes that Piper includes in the this that she doesn't know now, the this that she doesn't want to know now, the this she doesn't need to know now, the this she can know later. Oh for Kerouac's sake, to hell with it. Now _is_ now.

"Yes."

Alex dives in to kiss her hungrily like she can't get there any faster, any closer, any deeper.

"_Yes_."

Fingers on Alex's face, she takes the control from Alex—albeit momentarily; she knows it only happens because Alex relinquishes it.

"Jesus, Pipes." Alex leans backward a bit, giving Piper more reasons to press herself to her. "You fucking tease."

"It's the food," she breathes against Alex's mouth. "It's Italian." Alex half laughs and half moans, but the laugh dies in her throat as Piper grabs her hand and shoves it back into her panties. "So fucking touch me now. Touch me like you mean it." Alex's fingertips find her clit, and Piper only jolts forward in more want, more need. "And make it fast." Two fingers slide inside her, and Piper throws her head back to let out a load moan. "_Faster_." And it's not enough. Not even close. So she presses Alex's hand down with hers, working herself over together.

She hears Alex moan her name. She's dizzy. She's burning.

"More?"

"I don't care—just—"

Alex feasts on the column of her neck, baring her teeth and biting down the flesh none too gently, drawing a long string of curses from Piper. She trails a wet, hot line towards one of Piper's breasts, and she pulls down the bra to enclose a nipple in her mouth.

"Fuck!"

And _there_!

She jerks with a cry, clenching and unclenching around Alex's fingers, clutching Alex's head to her chest, elbows digging into Alex's shoulders. God bless the Italians for the food, the hairdresser for the new haircut, and this jerk for an orgasm like nothing else.

She's still trembling from the aftermath when Alex calls her name. "Yeah?"

"As much as I like being smothered with your tits," she says, her voice laced with good humor muffled against Piper's skin, "a little oxygen would be appreciated."

Piper lets go with a breathless chuckle. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Alex steadies her with a hand against her back, her hold gentle despite her still too warm palm. "I like it when you're hot." She kisses Piper's temple, right on her hairline.

"Only when I'm hot?"

"I think I can like you too when you're warm and cold."

"Are you sure?" She rubs Alex's shoulders where her elbows have dug in an apologetic gesture. "Think you can handle it?"

That smirk is back in full force. "I'm still fully clothed, aren't I?"

"Boo." She purses her lips in playful mockery. "Why are you still fully clothed," she pauses to peel down her bra and ruined shorts, dangling said bra with a finger in front of Alex's face, "when I'm _not_?"

In a swift move, Alex hooks an arm around her shoulders and flips their position. Piper lands on her back with a soft thump, a little winded, Alex hovering above her. "Well," Alex drawls, "since you ask nicely."

A small laugh escapes her. "I'm merely practicing 'Ask, and you shall receive.'

Alex lets out a chuckle. "For an atheist, you're pretty knowledgeable about the Scripture."

She winds her arms around Alex's neck to pull her down, closer, closer. "For a giver, you certainly haven't lived up to your title."

It's there again—that bright flicker in Alex's eyes.

But it can wait, Piper decides, as Alex leans down to meet her in a kiss. It can wait as the two of them roll away from each other much later in the wee hour of dawn, sweaty and slick and sated. It can wait as Piper climbs her way up Alex's body to drop one more kiss, just one more kiss on that brilliant, talented mouth. It can wait as Alex nearly loses her balance and falls off the bed when she's trying to untangle herself from the damp bed sheet, and Piper has to grab her by her ankle and boasts that she now holds Alex's Achilles' heel.

It can wait as Piper wakes up very late in the afternoon and finds Alex's arm draped over her waist, the radio airs a soft-spoken song, '_I wake with you, I feel your coat, sleep late afternoons,'_[2] and outside fog rolls into rainy San Francisco.

It can wait as Alex, still claimed by slumber and fatigue, tightens her hold around Piper, feels more than sees, and whisper-breathes, "Go back to sleep."

It can wait.

_How do you explain living with Alex Vause?_

For now, Piper thrills.

-.-.-.-

Footnote:

1 TV!_Orange_, 1x01: the song that plays when Piper stripteases is Benny Latimore's _Move and Groove Together_.

2 From Gregory Alan Isakov's _San Francisco_. A truly gorgeous song, but I'm taking a creative liberty of using this because the song is released in 2007 while this fic takes place in 2003.

Also, I love you, San Fran!

-.-.-.-

AN: Sooo... I practically rewrote our favorite stripping scene. Any comments, rotten eggs, tomatoes, cookies, anything? I'm off for some time from now. Hope you'll still be around to read the next chapter!


	6. near-sighted, so much closer

**Pieces**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: _Orange is the New Black_ belongs to Jenji Kohan and her amazing team. _Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women's Prison_ belongs to Piper Kerman.

-.-.-.-

_pieces of you__  
__pieces of you__  
__lie in me inches deep_

-.-.-.-

**six – nearsighted, so much closer**

It is rare, if not impossible, for Piper to wake up later than Alex does.

Yet here she is, awakened by soft grunts coming from the foot of the bed, and when her hand reaches blindly to the side, Alex isn't there.

"Alex?"

"Yeah?" comes a rough voice between the soft grunts.

Piper throws away the blanket and crawls to the end of the bed only to find flexing biceps, sleek back posture, and impressive derrière. What a sight to wake up to, she thinks. "What're you doing?" she asks—and immediately realizes how stupid it sounds. Of course she knows the answer. Push-ups always look like push-ups everywhere. Duh. "I mean, why the sudden mood for exercise?"

"My mom called. She forgot the fucking three-hour difference, and I couldn't get back to sleep." Alex continues working on her series of push-ups. "Decided to let off some steam."

She rouses from the bed, bringing herself closer to Alex and only stopping when she's standing astride her, legs on each side of Alex's hip. A nudge to Alex's pelvis makes Alex pause. Then she bends and sits on Alex. She grins. "Proceed, please."

Alex fakes an annoyed look that she throws over her shoulder. "Woman, you're fucking sitting on my ass. How the hell am I supposed to proceed?"

"That's the point. I heard it's even better with some extra weight." With her palms on Alex's shoulder blades, she presses down and leans forward to kiss Alex's nape. "And I happen to know that you have rather remarkable... stamina." _In bed_, she adds silently, but her grins lets Alex know of the innuendo.

"Get off of me."

"Try me."

A hand thrusts out, grabbing a hold of Piper's arm, and in a swift move of hip twist and torso shift, Alex pulls her aside, lands her on the Turkish carpet, and pins Piper with her body.

If anything, the sudden pounce only makes Piper laugh. "Get off of me."

Alex's smirk is in full force. "Try me."

One of them may do the leaning down and the other the pulling down, but the two of them do the clashing of lips, teeth, and tongues together. Excellently. Very excellently. That is, until Piper breaks the kiss, pulling back, smiling, and Alex's smirk softens into a lazy smile.

"Good morning," she says. "Is everything okay with your mom?" That surprises her, to be honest, because Alex has never brought up the family subject.

"Nah, she's fine." Alex shrugs, adjusting her position so now she's sported on her elbows. "Just sprained her ankle. Said she put some ice and it's getting better already."

She nods. "You never talked about your mom before."

"You never asked."

"Would you tell me about her if I asked?"

Alex shrugs again. "Perhaps." She kisses Piper on her cheek. "Now, as much as I love to continue this wrestling, I'd like to point out I'm sweaty and sticky."

If that's a diversion, Piper knows better than to prod Alex further. "I like you sweaty and sticky." Her hand starts slipping under Alex's tank top.

"Are you sure? Because sweat consists of not only water, but also lactate and urea. You know, those stuff."

Piper deadpans in a second. "Now you're sweaty, sticky, and gross." She makes a move to stand and leave.

"Wh—wait, Pipes. I'm kidding." But the jerk doesn't even try to hide her amusement, that is. Superjerk.

Piper glares at her.

"Why on earth the sudden mood swing? One minute you're all happy and horny, and the next minute you're pissed off." Alex sits up, but doesn't try to stop Piper. Superjerk sure knows how to rile her up and enjoys the hell out of it, doesn't she? Supercunt. "Where are you going?"

"To my happy place. To get rid of this unhappy pest. To be happy again."

Alex opens her mouth to say something, but she changes her mind quickly and smirks. "Am I invited?"

Piper wonders if she'll ever get immune to that sultry, liquid sex voice. Because—well. Reasons.

_Not in this life, I think,_ her mind supplies.

_Not in this life, I agree,_ she replies.

"Try me."

Which, she thinks, isn't exactly enough of a challenge for Alex, who knows how much she enjoys a long shower, warm bath, and first-rate companion. Who knows how to rile her up in less than five minutes and to soothe the irritation better than a paramedic tends to a burn mark. Who knows which hidden alcoves in the Presidio are secluded enough for a quickie—Piper will never live it down, though. Who knows how to get the corner back row seats in the legendary Balboa Theater for a heavy making out session as Christina Ricci and Jason Biggs act out a forgettable scene in a Woody Allen not-so genial movie. [1]

Who, despite all the bugging and teasing, knows how to slip into the shower quietly, smiles softly, and touches her gently. [2]

Alex guides Piper's hands to rest on her shoulders as her own hands settle on Piper's hip and thigh. Breaking the kiss though still keeping herself pressed to Piper, she murmurs, "Aren't you going to welcome me?"

"Welcome to my happy place." She chuckles against Alex's lips. "You'll make nice permanent part of it."

"Mm-hm." Alex's hand inches to get to between Piper's legs, her mouth swallowing Piper's gasp. "Good to know that," she whispers in Piper's ear, her tongue then flicking the shell of said ear. "Fast or slow?"

"Al—ex." She gasps against as she clutches at Alex's shoulder, her other hand a tight grip on Alex's upper arm. "I—"

"Babe," Alex uses that nickname again—the second time after that night Piper seduces her, her breath hot in Piper's ear, "touch me, too."

The Nabokovian fire of her loins burns even hotter at that, and the fire of Alex's loins on her fingers doesn't help to appease the hunger.

She comes first, and Alex is not too far behind. Dear God, Piper thinks as she takes in Alex's wet hair slicked to the back—some in the tight grip of her own fingers, the veins in her lean neck made visible, her flushed cheeks, and her clenched jaw, Alex is beautiful when she comes.

Then, as if reading her mind, Alex breathes in her ear, "You're beautiful when you come."

Alex's eyes on her are clear, so clear.

-.-.-.-

September is somber in the States.

The subdued mood shrouds the nation as tribute to the 9/11 tragedy is nearing, and even merry San Francisco is not exempt from it. To make it worse, Alex's Indonesia plan suffers a major halt as Jakarta is hit by a massive bombing in early August [3], which the US government reacts to by issuing a travel warning. Considering that the bombing happens only a few days before a trial for the even more massive Bali bombing the previous year [4], even the higher ups in Alex's ring doesn't want to take the risk. They're still going to Indonesia, Alex says, but they're not going to wrestle their way against stricter security. In her line of work, subtlety is secrecy and secrecy is success.

On the brighter side, it buys them some more time in San Francisco, somber as it seems for Piper—and tense as it is for Alex.

"We're leaving your car here."

Alex glares at her.

"You know your glasses aren't the only thing that's anti-glare, right?" She points at herself.

Alex curses under her breath. "If you want to be fucking plebeian, fine."

"Well, the MUNI bus is very reliable, and it's not like we're gonna walk our way to death."

"No, we're just gonna walk our way to fucking cramps and varices."

Ah. See? That's another reason why challenging Alex is so rewarding. Superjerk can be downright stubborn, but she knows when to let Piper have fun and keeps up with her—though not without grumbling.

_It's the grumbling that makes it more thrilling,_ her mind says. _She's a challenge for you, and you enjoy the thrill._

_Amen_, she replies dryly.

Thus she can't help chuckling when Alex makes a face at a book cover on display in Bound Together, Haight-Ashbury.

"Now I need bleach for my eyes," she groans and takes off her glasses.

"What?" Piper takes a glance at the unfortunate book. "Oh. Pee-pee?"

If anything, Alex turns green. [5]

One of the bookstore crew, a lanky boy barely twenty, seems to find their situation in need for help. "You guys okay there?"

"She's fine," Piper answers, rubbing Alex's back in what she hopes is a soothing manner. "Just a bit uncomfortable with those over-manipulated giant vein-popping penises cover of that book." She points at the book that becomes Alex's source of misery.

The shop assistant eyes the book then Alex, grinning. "I see. You're that kind of girl."

"What?" Alex snaps.

"A fag who hates dicks."

"Dicks like you?" Alex taunts.

"Hey, no offense. I come in peace." The shop assistant raises his hands, now laughing. "I mean, a lesbian who's grossed out by, quoting your girlfriend here, over-manipulated giant vein-popping penises."

Piper chooses to let that girlfriend quip slide, but she readies herself for another smartass comeback from Alex for the shop assistant.

Which, surprisingly, only comes mildly as "For the same reason you're not participating in any vagina monologues?" followed by a shared sarcastic laugh between Alex and the shop assistant.

It's Piper's turn to grimace. Jesus, these people. Doing it is one thing, but saying penis and vagina in one breath? So much for swirling, really.

She half-drags Alex out of Bound Together without buying anything and only stops when they reach a bus stop. "Now let's go find some bleach for your eyes." Then she notices it. "Hey, wear your glasses. I wouldn't want to be your guide dog."

Alex raises her eyebrows and plucks her glasses from her head. "I'm near-sighted, not blind."

"Blindish, then." [6]

"Fuck off." Nevertheless, Alex puts on her glasses. "I need them to see distant objects. I can see you just fucking fine because you're only a foot away."

"Oh." She thinks for a while. "Okay, what about this?" She stretches her arm and wiggles her fingers from afar. "How many fingers you see?"

Alex rolls her eyes and smacks Piper hand. "You're like—what? Five?"

"And a half." She laughs. The MUNI bus they are waiting is approaching. "Speaking of which, you're not allergic to avifauna, aren't you?"

Alex stands behind her as they get on the crowded bus. She looks at Piper suspiciously. "Where are we going now?"

"You'll see," then she finds the need to add, cheekily, "not blind lady."

Alex rolls her eyes once again.

They have to change bus before reaching Telegraph Hill. As they get off the second bus, Alex seems to realize where Piper is bringing them. "Oh my god. Don't tell me you want to feed the fucking parrots."

"I want to feed the fucking parrots," she copies.

Alex groans. "I'm not fucking walking all the way up the fucking hill just for fucking parrots."

"Grandma too old for a slightly challenging walk?"

Alex flips her off.

"Oh come on." She decides to take matters into her own hand and grabs onto Alex's left arm. "We'll walk there, we'll feed the parrots, and we'll go home and have crazy sex." Then Alex can barely hide her amusement, and it's only then that Piper realizes she's not the one who's steering the game. Fucking manipulative, fucking cunning, fucking shrewd jerk is. "_You_!"

"Me," Alex says.

"Fuck you."

"Later."

"Double fuck you."

Alex laughs, but she keeps Piper's hands on her arm. "You need more practice before mastering the mind game," she pauses, then adding for good measure, "kid."

"Don't call me that."

"Alright, five-and-a-half kid."

"Ha-ha-ha."

"Hey, you should be glad. Only people of Ingrid Bergman's caliber deserve such nickname." As Piper's face twists in confusion, Alex's twists in disbelief. "Don't tell me you haven't seen _Casablanca_."

"Uhm—no?"

"Are you for real?" Alex groans, letting go of Piper's arms. "Theater major, Smith grad, committed bookworm Piper Chapman? Never seeing _Casablanca_?"

"That's an exaggeration."

Alex looks like she's torn between throwing Piper over her shoulder then making her watch _Casablanca_ a hundred times and throwing Piper onto the ground then punishing her by fucking her until next year. _The latter, please, _Piper thinks._ Jesus, if this is what it does to her when I don't know things, I'd rather be dumb._

_You _are_ dumb_, her mind grabs the opportunity to pipe up. _Don't you realize? You're a challenge for her, and she enjoys the thrill. I don't know if that makes you two a fucking matching pair or just a plain stupid pair._

_Would you just shut up? And we're not a pair._

_Why yes, and I can smell that Egyptian river from here_, her mind concludes.

The parrot-feeding fiesta is said and done with Alex's fingers getting plucked by two female parrots and Piper's hair missing a parrot shit bomb by an inch.

"We're not gonna do this shit again. Ever," Alex says on their way home. "Those fucking feather monsters so in love with my fingers must be lesbians."

"Yeah? What about those who almost shit on my hair?"

"Must be kiddo lesbians."

True to her words, Alex pulls up Netflix for _Casablanca_ instead of going straight to Piper's promised crazy sex. The only redemption for missing the sex is that the movie lives up to its reputation as one of the greatest movies ever made.

"You used to have a crush on Humphrey Bogart or what?" she asks as the closing credit rolls.

"Jesus, no." Alex chuckles. "On Ingrid, yes."

She nods. No surprise there, yes. "I can see why you regard this movie highly." She nods again to herself. "It's... good."

"It's fucking brilliant."

"You're such a sapiosexual," Piper comments dryly.

Grinning, Alex taps her temple to agree with Piper's statement. "That makes the two of us."

With the TV off and the bedroom light back to its normal brightness, it's suddenly too quiet it's unnerving. Hello! Can the jerk say something? Why is she suddenly quiet? Piper doesn't deal well with silence. Hellooo!

"So," she begins, rather awkward, "sex?"

"Vermont." [7]

"What?"

Alex takes off her glasses, cradling them with both hands as if weighing them. "My mom." Exhaling softly, she turns to look at Piper. "She lives in Burlington, Vermont. I bought her a house a couple of years ago."

It's no longer unnerving; it's weighing.

Why? Why now?

Jesus.

Alex lets out a quiet chuckle. "We used to live in Chicago [8], and for fuck's sake I hate that city. Vermont is a nice change. My mom loves it, you know. That beau, Vermont. But she's still fucking working in Ben and Jerry's though I tell her not to." Her eyes meet Piper's. Without her glasses and with this proximity of shoulders and arms touching, she looks younger, not as loaded, less burdened.

She's not that near-sighted, is she.

"Your turn." There's hesitation in Alex's voice, subtle but there.

"I—well, my mom lives in Connecticut after my parents got a divorce. My dad is a drunkard. And you know I have a brother—younger. Cal. He's—uhm—eccentric."

Alex nods. "Okay."

And Piper doesn't know how to continue but says, "Thank you. For telling me, I mean."

Alex's smile is a tad sad if not wistful, but it's her way to say she's welcome, Piper knows.

And she knows why. She knows why now.

"You're not that near-sighted, are you?" She's not talking about eyesight, really.

Alex's eyes on her are clear, the clearest Piper has ever seen.

"Here's looking at you, kid." [9]

-.-.-.-

Footnote:

1 _Anything Else_ (August 2003)—in which Jason Biggs stars as a struggling writer in New York with a girlfriend who's afraid of commitment. Ring a bell?

2 TV!_Orange_ 1x01: the shower scene.

3 Jakarta's J.W Marriott Hotel bombing, August 2003.

4 Bali Bombing I, October 2002.

5 TV!_Orange_ 1x08: Nicky makes a joke about blowjob and Alex shies away.

6 At best, nearsightedness is only my guess. In TV!_Orange_ 1x06 Alex can see Nicky's scar without her glasses but not the retreating Pensatucky after her glasses are smashed in the bathroom in 1x09. She also often takes them off especially when talking closely to people.

7 Memoir!_Orange_: the real Alex (Nora) is arrested in her villa in Vermont.

8 Memoir!_Orange_: the real Alex (Nora) is described by Piper Kerman as "Midwesterner," and Chicago is the "safe port" where they fly for Brussels. I'm taking the liberty to make this Alex's hometown.

9 From _Casablanca_. Humphrey Bogart's Rick says that to Ingrid Bergman's Ilsa. Speaking of which, _Casablanca_ tells a story of a man (Rick) who's torn between his old flame (Ilsa) and his work (his duty to help the Allied Force in WWII). Again, ring a bell?

-.-.-.-

AN: thank you everyone who has left alerts and reviews, especially those who tell me the little details you enjoy most. You really make my day! Now, starting from the next chapter, the story will deal with their round-the-world drug-running trip. Fingers crossed I won't be messing up!


	7. alex in the sky with diamonds

**Pieces**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: _Orange is the New Black_ belongs to Jenji Kohan and her amazing team. _Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women's Prison_ belongs to Piper Kerman.

-.-.-.-

_pieces of you  
__pieces of you  
__lie in me inches deep_

-.-.-.-

**seven – alex in the sky with diamonds**

"Do you have some kind of bucket list?"

Alex looks up from her suds-covered hands, pausing in her elbow grease task of scrubbing the bottom of a pan—courtesy of their kung pao chicken dinner last night. Really, with her hair tied loosely, worn t-shirt, and distressed jeans, she no longer looks like a poster girl for rebellion.

_Because she looks so domestic now?_ her mind, as usual, decides to jump in without an invitation.

Piper almost winces. 'Domestic' is hardly an existing word when one has an Alex Vause in mind.

Alex purses her lips, seemingly in thought. "Well, kinda."

"Of places to visit?"

"Of places to visit, stuff to do, people. Yeah."

"People to do?"

That earns her a smirk. "Among other things." Alex hands her the pan to be rinsed, drying her hands with a paper towel then. "You?"

"I have a rather long list," she admits. "Typical fresh graduate, you might say." She's been dreaming of places she only reads in books, and Alex's account of being a female version of Phileas Fogg only fuels the dream even more. And it's not because she wants to boast to her friends. Her bucket list is her personal reminder of her longing to taste that glimpse of freedom and nonconformity of life. And while her bucket list is a non-animated reminder, the way Alex lives her life is an animated, living, breathing reminder to Piper.

_She's everything you want to be,_ her mind paraphrases. _Or at least what you _think_ you want to be._

_She's everything I _know_ I want to be,_ she corrects, then adds, _minus the drug-dealing part._

_Even this... more domestic side of her?_

This time she does wince. After all, it's one of the thoughts she puts on hold; it's one of the things she decides she can wait to know. And for crying out loud, waiting does not need a reminder. Instead, waiting needs a distraction so it will not materialize itself in life. And where's the goddamn distraction, a.k.a. the dishwasher, now when she needs it?

The goddamn dishwasher apparently does not want to cooperate with her as it remains not working even after she presses the start button several times.

"Fucking useless broken piece of advance technology," she curses under her breath. Bending down to check the dishwasher, she peeks inside. Nothing moves. The dirty plates are still dirty, the now grease-free pan still needs to be rinsed, and the wine glasses are mocking her with their glint of wine remains.

Beside her, Alex chuckles. "Let me see."

"You know how to repair a dishwasher?"

"Not exactly repair, but when you're living on your own, you gotta need to know your way around home appliances." Alex opens the dishwasher door and bends at the waist. She reaches inside, fumbling with a panel or so. A minute later, Piper hears a soft buzz, and Alex closes the dishwasher door. "And that," Alex bends down again to peeks inside the dishwasher, which is working now, "is something you don't get to learn in college, Miss Smith graduate."

Sweet baby Jesus in the manger. If Alex bends again and puts her glorious behind on display, Piper may not be able to restrain herself from jumping her. Seriously. What an animate, living, breathing sex on legs. A much, much better distraction than a dishwasher. Seriously.

"Earth to Piper?" Alex waves a hand in front of Piper's face.

She swallows and decides to game. "And what else do you not learn in college, Miss Fixer?"

There's a flash of surprise on Alex's face before it is swiftly replaced by a more familiar expression of desire. Good. That Piper can handle. That Piper can want—safely, rewardingly, mutually.

"A fuckload." Alex pulls her closer with a finger in one of Piper's belt loops.

She steps forward, standing between Alex's open legs and pushing Alex backward until the back of her thighs hit the edge of the dishwasher. "I have no doubt that you know your way around the world and home appliances."

"Mm-hm." Alex's arms are now loosely circling her waist. "I also happen to know," she whispers in Piper's ears, her voice deeper, "a hundred and one ways to make you come without having to have you in bed."

Piper's knees almost buckle, but she soldiers on. "And won't you be interested to know how much I've learned about that?"

"Fucking tease." Alex half-chuckles and half-moans, clearly amused and aroused. "Why don't you show me?" She takes one of Piper's hands and presses it against her lower abdomen, her palm warm against the back of Piper's hand. "Start slow." Their fingers crawl together under Alex's t-shirt. "You know how much you like touching. You know how much you like touching _me_."

"I can't help it," she replies, lips and tongue teasing Alex's earlobe. A small lick here, a small nip there. Alex shudders and moans, and Piper grins in elation. "And you can't help it, too."

Alex's chuckle reverberates in their bodies. "Why should I?" She tilts her head aside, returning Piper's attention to her ear to the column of Piper's neck. A small lick along the vein, a small nip on the spot under her jaw. Piper, too, shudders and moans, and when Alex pulls back, Piper can see that her blue eyes are dark, intent and purposeful. "I like your body, and I like it even more when it's with my body."

Piper's eyes widen and her mouth pulls up in a surprised grin. "You read e.e. cummings."

"Old pervert has an appropriate name," Alex says. "Besides, you read Neruda, so I have to level up the nerd game."

She's about to compliment Alex, the self-proclaimed non-fiction reader who only used Shakespeare to kiss her for the first time, when her fingertips meet slick, wet heat. "Oh my god," she moans. "Fuck, Alex."

Alex's mouth is cool and heated at the same time on the joint between Piper's neck and shoulder. "Bet you'll feel the same if I touch you now." She opens her mouth, clamping on the skin. "Wet." A teasing bite. A soothing lap. "Hot." A suckle. A press of smiling lips. Piper pushes inside Alex with a finger, and they both moan at the sensation. "Tight." Alex smirks against her cheek. She raises a leg and hooks it around Piper's hip, tugging her closer. It is their coordinated motion that accidentally presses the start button of the dishwasher again. "_Fuck_."

Piper scrambles to unhook Alex's leg and reaches blindly to turn off the dishwasher, but Alex stops her midway. She hops onto the dishwasher, letting the vibration of the gadget aid Piper and makes herself available to any ambush Piper has in mind.

"Let's cross one item off of my bucket list," Alex says.

_Did she—_

Fuck.

Fuck Alex Vause and her run-but-not-lie policy. Fuck her and her blatant boldness and brashness. Fuck her and her ease at being comfortable with herself. Fuck her and her confidence, her brilliance, her fucking _everything_.

_And fuck _you_ if you don't find them all the more enthralling._

Piper flips off her inner voice and drives herself faster onto and into Alex, who has just admitted one of her bucket list items so fucking casually and tips her head back and moans like a pro and makes Piper's ears bleed from all the passion and want and need and—

The vibration of the dishwasher and Piper's work altogether careen Alex off the edge. She lets out a growl when she comes, her hands on Piper's ass practically plastering Piper to her front, legs hooked at the ankle at the back of Piper's thighs. Her eyes are shut behind her askew glasses, her cheekbones taking that hint of blush, a small cry choked to die in her throat. Alex is beautiful indeed when she comes, Piper thinks over and over. Alex is always beautiful.

Alex kisses her cheek after she comes down from her high, and her eyes light up as Piper's arms rest around her shoulders.

"Really?" Piper can't help chuckling. "A dishwasher?"

"Well, we basically have nothing to do until our flight to Bali." Alex joins her in her laughter, knocking a knuckle once on the now quiet dishwasher. "Wanna try the washing machine later?"

Ooh. Tempting, tempting. "And the patio?"

"Only if we can start crossing items off of your bucket list, too."

Alex, Piper realizes, has kaleidoscope eyes when she laughs.

-.-.-.-

Truth be told, Alex is right when she says they have nothing to do until Bali. Piper has taken all the necessary vaccines recommended by the CDC (all the TDaP and MMR and Hepatitis A and B and even flu shot. _Because you can never be too sure_, Alex says), has packed some clothes into a small L.L. Bean duffel bag (it exactly consists of her running gear, a pair of black cowboy boots, a pair of silk pants, a tank dress, blue jean cut-offs, three t-shirts, a red silk shirt, and a black miniskirt. [1] Alex has rolled her eyes at the content of her bag, saying, _You really have no fucking idea what to pack, don't you_, but she hasn't made Piper repack), and has even called Polly to let her know of her whereabouts for the next few months (of which Alex simply comments, _Why don't you go tell your mom, too?_).

"So," she begins, looking at Alex, who is perched on the edge of the bed.

"So," Alex echoes.

"I'm good to go."

"You're good to go." Alex nods. She gives a light kick to Piper's duffel bag. "And if there's anything you need, we can just buy them on the road."

"On the road," Piper muses. She scoots over to sit beside Alex. "Have you ever felt like a Sal Paradise? Like, you know, standing at the dividing line between the East of your youth and the West of your future?" She frowns at that. "No, wait. Scratch that. I _am_ more like Sal. You're more like Dean."

"I'm sure you have an _On the Road_ analogy for every situation, Kerouac geek," Alex says dryly. "And to answer your question, no. Never."

"Why?"

"Because it's fucking somebody else." Alex shrugs, light-hearted and nonchalant. "I can't be somebody else or go on somebody else's journey."

It takes some time for Piper to digest before she finally says, "Okay." Then she adds, "So... we have a day left. Any suggestions of what to do?"

"Fucking and more fucking?"

She in reflex punches the jerk in the arm. "Must you always be so crass?"

Alex gets a hold of Piper's fist. "Sex and more sex, then?" She laughs and earns herself another punch. "Ow. Geez, Pipes. Must you always be so abusive?"

"I'm a somesthetic person. I depend a lot on my tactile perception." [2]

"Oh okay. You and your GRE vocabulary. Should I say wow now?"

Chuckling, she leans towards Alex so that her back now is halfway to Alex's front. "You know I like touching you."

"Well, it's mutual."

"Nymphomaniac."

"At the moment, I'm more like Pipermaniac."

Now that's an admission that takes her out of the blue. "What?"

Alex, too, seems to be taken aback herself. "What?" Her voice is slightly a pitch higher than her normal register, and Piper notices it as well. Then the next second Alex's eyes are once again wicked and haughty. Her fingers are now grazing the underside of Piper's right breast. "I didn't hear a no." She shifts from sitting next to her to straddling one of Piper's thighs to sliding lower and lower. "Yeah?"

Piper can feel her cheeks burn as Alex plays with the button of her shorts, pulling the zipper down, caressing the skin previously covered by the waistband, resting her chin on her folded hands as she kneels between Piper's spread legs.

Alex takes off her glasses and places them on Piper's hand, curling her fingers around Piper's. "Don't break them," she says before leaning forward and placing an open-mouthed kiss on Piper's bellybutton.

_Funny_, she wants to say. _You're the one who breaks me with your seduction._

Alex hooks her thumbs on the edge of Piper's panties and slides them down her thighs.

_And in your seduction of me, you're both persistent and patient._ [3]

If she is not wet before, she definitely is now, and Alex makes sure to show how much she enjoys making her so. When the first lick comes, it's soft and tentative. The second, firmer. The third, slipping between her folds. The fourth, slower, way slower, sliding from near her entrance to circling her clit.

The fifth, however, does not come as Alex just _stops_.

She wants to recite the litany of Saint Alex Vause the Patron of Orgasm Giver—one that consists of _don'tstopdon'tstopdon'tyoudarefuckingstop_—but decides to practice her belief in show-don't-tell instead.

A fistful of Alex's hair in her hand, tendrils of that dark beauty between her fingers. A gentle nudge, soon becoming an insistent push. A press. A request and a command altogether.

She is putty in Alex's hand, and Alex is putty in her hand. Metaphorically. Literally. Orgasmically.

_And that's why you motherfuckers deserve each other,_ her mind says.

_I'm not—I'm not a motherfucker._

_Fine. You prefer Oedipussies, then?_

_Fuck off_, she seethes. _Fuck labels and all their glory. Whatever this is, this is. Whatever this is, so be it._

Her orgasm is an unraveling of the tight knot in the pit of her stomach, a thundering heart against the cage of her chest, a spiraling over the edge as she crashes down the waves of pleasure.

Alex keeps her tongue moving, waiting until the last tremor passes through Piper's body, only stopping and pulling away afterward. She crawls up, pulling Piper's panties and shorts away completely with her toes—even her toes are _that_ functional, Piper vaguely notices—and pushes Piper back onto the bed with her torso.

"Hey," she says, always a master of seeming effortless. [4] "Still alive?"

Spent, Piper hums an affirmative response. She cups Alex's cheek with a hand, and Alex turns slightly to press a peck against her palm. "You have beautiful eyes," she says. "You're a girl with kaleidoscope eyes."

Alex laughs softly. "My name isn't Lucy, kid."

Piper laughs as well and pulls Alex down for a kiss and another and another.

In her other hand, she doesn't break the glasses.

-.-.-.-

From San Francisco to Paris and finally to Denpasar: that's how they do it. [5]

They have a lay over in Paris for a few hours before boarding on a Garuda Indonesia to Bali. Charles de Gaulle is as hectic as ever, Alex says, but Piper falls in love immediately with the airport's avant-garde design—has, in fact, always been ever since she sees U2's _All That You Can't Leave Behind_ album cover and its hit _Beautiful Day_ video clip in 2000. She also bemoans the fate that she can't be in Paris, and Alex simply answers with a promise to take her to Paris one day.

She's almost become incensed at that, because one does not make light of Paris. Doesn't make an empty promise on Paris. Doesn't mess with Paris, period.

Alex makes a cross in front of her chest. _Cross my heart and hope to die,_ she says.

Piper thinks, waywardly, that to die in Paris, borrowing The Smiths' words, is such a heavenly way to die.

Their Garuda Indonesia's first class seats provide them everything they need to entertain themselves in a thirteen-hour flight. Piper immerses herself in her copy of _Lonely Planet: Bali and Lombok_. Alex browses through the plane's movie collection and lets out a not-so discreet yelp when finding _Private Benjamin_. [6]

Piper eyes the movie on Alex's screen. "Goldie Hawn? You're really a sucker for old beauties, aren't you?"

"I like her daughter more, to be honest," Alex says, grinning. "Come on. You can see de Gaulle's famous escalator tubes in this."

Right after the scene where Judy Benjamin walks out on Henry Tremont at the altar, she very nearly jumps as Alex's hand slips beneath the thick duvet and into her jeans.

"The fuck, Alex," she hisses through gritted teeth. "We're on—"

"A fucking plane, exactly." Alex smirks. "One more item off of my bucket list."

She opens her mouth to protest even more, but there's a delicious press of Alex's fingers on all the right spots down there and what comes out is merely a choked moan. Well. The light is dim. Nobody's going to catch what they are doing under the safe cover of the duvet. The first class cabin is only shared by two other elderly couples and a dozing man. And she can be quiet, yes. She can.

It's a slow building towards a pinnacle with Piper using Alex's shoulder to muffle her voice, a hand clutching at Alex's sleeve and the other clawing at the side of Alex's face, almost knocking off her glasses. _Come on,_ she silently demands._ Don't leave me like Judy leaves Henry. Don't fucking leave me high and dry. Don't—_

Her final gasp is swallowed in Alex's mouth as she tenses, shudders, and comes noiselessly.

She is wondering if someone can die from having too many orgasms and is still trying to regulate her breathing back to normal when she feels a kiss on her hair and deft fingers touch her nape.

There's a cold sensation around her neck.

Alex smiles at her when she opens her eyes.

She is wearing a necklace adorned with a diamond pendant.

"Wh—"

"Do you know that the English word _diamond_ comes from the Greek word _a__dámas_?"

Damn Alex Fucking Vause and her timing for everything—this flight, this necklace, this sprout of random word etymology, this whole Vausian lure.

Bewildered, she looks at Alex, fingers on the pendant.

"Got that flown from Santorini for you."

Sweet baby Jesus in the manger and the shepherds and their white sheep. The jerk remembers, doesn't she. [7] Piper isn't sure whether to weep in joy or scream in joy or just straight gratitude-fuck Alex in joy. Each will likely get her thrown out of flight, really.

She ends up leaning her head on Alex's shoulder, closing her eyes, breathing in Alex's distinct scent, smiling, whispering a soft _thank you_.

Later, Alex will wake her up as the pilot announces that the plane is about to land in Denpasar's Ngurah Rai Airport and turn to look her in the eye and say, "Welcome to Bali, kid." Later, she will look out the window of their cab and see temple-like houses, intricate banners, tiered offerings, and miles of paddy fields—a real life reminder of the dream egg she is cracking.

Later, she will find out that _a__dámas_ means 'unbreakable.'

Now, she has Alex's warmth and Alex's laugh and Alex's kaleidoscope eyes, and they are enough.

-.-.-.-

Footnote:

[1] The duffel bag and its detailed content are from memoir!_Orange_. Piper Kerman even mentions that aside from having no idea of what to pack, she's also too excited she forgets to pack a bathing suit.

[2] TV!_Orange_ 1x10, in a way it's the impression I get when Piper says, "I can't get through this without somebody to touch."

[3] Memoir!_Orange_.

[4] Memoir!_Orange_. During what Piper Kerman calls "a secretive courtship," this is her assessment of real life Alex (Nora): "witty, charming, and a master of seeming effortless." I like how Jenji Kohan and co and most importantly Laura Prepon translate that to screen.

[5] Memoir!_Orange_.

[6] TV!_Orange_ 1x12, mentioned when Alex defends Piper for getting Pensatucky out of psych and having to do janitor duty in return.

[7] See Chapter 2.

Also, "To die in Paris is such a heavenly way to die." I almost keeled over and wept writing that line because we all knew what happened to them in Paris later.

-.-.-.-

AN: Thank you for all the reviews and alerts for the previous chapter. This chapter is meant to lay a foundation for the next Bali chapters (which I'm sure will make you want to strangle me). However, with the Fall semester starting, I might put writing on hold and go on a hiatus. Still, it'll be wonderful to hear from you, lovelies!


	8. vivere pericoloso

**Pieces**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: _Orange is the New Black_ belongs to Jenji Kohan and her amazing team. _Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women's Prison_ belongs to Piper Kerman.

AN: a beta I have now, and thank her you all should. Great she has done, and to dear A-mazing go all praises.

-.-.-.-

_pieces of you  
pieces of you  
lie in me inches deep_

-.-.-.-

**eight – vivere pericoloso***

A morning in Bali is a morning like no other.

Piper stretches languidly, breathing in the salty breeze of Bali Sea that filters through the French doors she forgets to close last night: the bustling of the holy ground of Tanah Lot Temple and the region of Legian, the song of the birds in the distance, soft rustles of the bed sheet over her naked body, and Alex's grumble at being inadvertently prodded as she stretches. Altogether: an orchestra of soothing sounds for a well rest body.

Now here's what a good long night of sex can give someone: a very good sleep, a stress-free state per waking up as a result from the release of estrogen, dopamine, oxytocin, endorphin, and all their merry band of natural heroin, and a cathartic sense of having listened to someone's own body to a tee.

_Hell yeah_, she thinks. _Indulgence at its best_.

A bacchanalia, Bali provides her a chance to indulge in earthly pleasures as much as she wants. It allows her to enjoy the leisure walk to local markets, buying sarongs and bikinis and sneaking into the privately owned part of Nusa Dua. It allows her to enjoy going up the stairs to the top tier of Besakih Temple, which Alex swears to never do again—partly because of the long ascent and partly because the temple's holy ground requires every visitor to wear unrevealing clothes even on a sweltering day. It allows her to scream at the top of her lungs in a parasailing outing, asking for a second and third time. It allows her to enjoy a scuba diving trip in Tulamben, amateur as she is.

It allows her to enjoy watching Alex turn red instead of tanned after hours on the beach, courtesy of her pale complexion.

_For a globetrotter, you get annoyed way too easily_, she says after earning herself a glare from calling Alex Snow White.

_I'm always annoyed_, Alex returns. _The only break I take is when I'm too bored to get annoyed._

Bali, too, allows her to learn how Alex conducts her business. Alex's big boss, a drug kingpin from West Africa, will inform his select people that he has drug units somewhere. Subcontractors like Alex and Fahri will then arrange how to transport the heroin into the US. Sometimes, they also transport drug money. It is up to the subcontractors how to manage the transport and whether they are using mules or other means, which most of the time includes recruiting, training, and paying the so-called vacation for their mules.

She also meets people she has never thought to meet: arms dealers, oil company executives from Texas, corrupt Indonesian military generals who dwell in murky illegal business, and Alex's band of queer mules who some look like washed-up Goth enthusiasts and some other acutely remind Piper of herself before that fated night in Northampton.

All of them, she sourly remembers, makes a bile rise up to her throat.

Some people are darker than black, she realizes.

But nothing, nothing is brighter than a morning in a Le Méridien Nirwana [1] suite's bed: soft Egyptian cotton bed sheet, velvety blanket, warm sunlight from that gap between the French doors, and of course that orchestra of soothing sounds.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Uhm—well? Should she tell the just woken up Alex her train of thought? Or should she just snuggle, cuddle, nuzzle her good morning?

"Good morning," she finally decides, dropping a quick peck on Alex lips, from which Alex shies away quickly. "What?"

"Morning breath."

She bristles at that. "I do not have morning breath, thank you."

"With everything we did last night, yes, _we_ do, thank you."

She smacks the superjerk on the shoulder. "What do you think about breakfast in bed?"

"Everything to tame your level of violence," Alex mumbles against her pillow, seemingly ready to go back to sleep.

Sleepiness is contagious, Piper thinks. Snuggle, cuddle, nuzzle sounds like a good idea now. "You order, then."

"No, _you_ order."

"Well, this room is under your name."

"And you're under me enough to listen to me and do the ordering."

"Fuck you."

Alex lets out a soft chuckle, finally opening her eyes. "Let's make it a game. Whoever gets the phone and makes the call," she pauses, eyeing the telephone unit at the livery cupboard across the bed, "gets to do anything to the loser."

Piper is immediately up and kicking. "Deal."

She kicks herself into a sitting position and is about to throw the blanket off of her when Alex grabs her by the waist, preventing her move. Alex uses her as a leverage to push herself up, forcing Piper down in return. Her protest is muffled against the blanket, and Alex leaps to the feet of the bed. With a cry, she throws herself at Alex, knocking her sideway. Alex yelps a not-so quiet _Oof_, falling from the bed but not before seizing Piper's arm. They land ungracefully on the floor in a tangled mess of limbs and blanket.

Laughter rumbles from Alex's belly, shaking them both as they are pressed to one another, chests to chests and ribs to ribs.

"You don't have to drag me down," she says, also laughing.

"Where's the fun of it? And don't complain when I'm the one who takes the brunt of the fall."

Alex slips an arm underneath Piper's armpit, winding it around her shoulder, a palm on the back of Piper's head, her other arm loose on Piper's waist. She steals a peck from a corner of Piper's mouth. Then one from the underside of her jaw. Then one from below her ear. She in return circles her arms around Alex's neck.

"This is the part where we should just kiss, you know." Piper grins.

"Uh-huh."

"But you wouldn't want morning breath, right?"

"Fuck morning breath." Alex pushes Piper's head down and pushes herself up to meet her halfway.

The dark and the darker can wait, Piper decides. She is busy living her life.

-.-.-.-

"Urrrgh."

Piper hears a soft thump as Alex drops her head onto her folded arms. Marking the page she is reading, she closes her book and looks at Alex, who is now slumping on her desk, her laptop screen still showing the spreadsheet she has been working on since midday.

"A break won't hurt, you know," she says, careful of her wording. Alex dislikes discussing her work, and if anything, Piper also does not want to discuss that—ever.

Alex lifts her head, glasses sliding down her nose. "I'm working with idiots."

Time to test the water. Piper puts down her book. "Then that makes you the bigger idiot for picking them."

"Geez. Thanks for the comfort, kid." Nevertheless, Alex takes off her glasses and walks to the reading nook in the small patio where Piper sits. Her steps halt, and Piper waits. A small smile steals its way onto Alex's face. "Look at yourself. All rich white girl sitting in a balcony, enjoying Bali, reading poetry anthology. How fucking first world of you."

"And you? Working even on a vacation? That sounds equally first world to me."

Alex makes her scoot over and takes a seat herself, lying against Piper's side. She supports her head with a hand and throws the other across Piper's midsection. "Read to me. Pick one from your book and fucking read to me."

She keeps quiet for some time, trying to digest Alex's weird mood. "Okay." She picks her book up and flips to the page she reads last. "'After a brief conversation,' she begins, "'color withdrew – into white. And nature outside – awaits in vain.' [2]

Alex waits for a minute. Then she snickers. "That's it? What the hell?"

"What do you expect?"

"I thought you're gonna read me something from your beloved Neruda or Cummings—like—like bodies meet bodies or screwing over romancing or whatever."

She bops Alex on the head with the spine of her book—good-naturedly, though. "This poet is possibly one of the most beloved poets in Indonesia. He's also been to the States as a visiting scholar."

"So?" Alex scrunches her nose. "Doesn't make me love his poem."

Alex is now obviously in her overgrown squirrel mood, and damn if the abrupt change does not make Piper's heart skip a beat. _Must be the squirrel charm. Damn squirrel. Bad squirrel._ Hiding her moonstruck moment with a cough, she slides so that she is now lying face-to-face with Alex. Alex's hand on her midsection trails upward to stroke her nape. She winces lightly when Alex's fingertips graze the still tender skin near her hairline—the aftereffect of her new tattoo.

"Still hurt?"

She takes Alex's hand from her nape, holding it against her cheek. "A little."

Alex chuckles. "Imagine my surprise when you wanted to get tatted. A fish tat, nevertheless. Might as well get yourself a Nemo tat." [3]

She chuckles as well. "I like Dory more." She presses a kiss on the outer side of Alex's palm. "And you did say, I quote the verbatim, 'It's an enjoyable movie.'

Alex's face hardens for a brief moment before she breaks the eye contact. "Kid's fucking lucky he's got a great dad."

That tone and that expression. Piper has had more knowledge in the Vausian body language by now, and this one can't be read as anything but an evasive front. Oh right. Family. It's _the_ topic that, aside from work, Alex always steers away from except that one time when they watch _Casablanca_.

She is about to move on from the rapidly becoming uncomfortable situation when Alex's cellphone rings. Alex rolls her eyes, mumbling an irritated _Really?_ and gets up to get the call. Piper immediately knows it is about work, because Alex goes to the living room to answer the call. A short moment later, she hears a more displeased yell of _Are you fucking kidding me?_

_Well_, she sighs. _Shit happens_.

Two minutes later, Alex is back in the patio, face even grimmer.

Piper raises her eyebrows.

"We're going to Jakarta. Tomorrow. Early flight. Jack," Alex pauses, tight-lipped, checking if Piper remembers the man with the name—of course she does: Alex's lecherous, greedy, dangerous business partner, "has arranged everything."

She nods. "Okay."

Alex gives her a short-lived apologetic look and opens her mouth to say something, but she then changes her mind and turns around, apparently to make a call to whoever it may be in Jakarta.

Piper repeats to herself, "Okay."

-.-.-.-

A morning in Jakarta waits for no one.

Bustling Soekarno-Hatta vaguely reminds Piper of a Greyhound bus station somewhere in Connecticut, a town square, and a farmers market altogether. People walk in and out from each and every direction, carrying bags and suitcases with them, some might contain the same units Alex is dealing with.

Alex and Jack talk in a hushed tone behind her, while Len, a thin-faced thirty-something Chicago native who picks them up, stands in line for a taxi.

"You go with Len to the hotel first," Alex says. "Jack and I have something to do."

She frowns at that.

Alex kisses her on the cheek, flashing a thin smile. Behind her glasses, her eyes are unreadable. "See you soon, kid."

The taxi drives through the Soekarno-Hatta Ring Road, passes the western part of Jakarta—full of bleakly colored office buildings and vacant public parks, and finally enters the Central Jakarta region. It stops at a red light, and a beggar approaches to ask for alms. Piper thinks of her Smith course of post-colonialism and globalization and wonders how metropolitans, like Jakarta, always host the filthy rich and the destitute in the same breath. Then again, isn't it how the world works? Well. She can imagine Alex laughing at her naivety at that point._ You definitely still have a lot to learn, kid,_ she can imagine Alex saying that, blunt as ever but not malicious.

She takes a few rupiah bills from her wallet, but Len shrinks in his seat and gasps as she rolls down the taxi window.

"Don't!" he shouts and reaches across her to roll up the window.

"What?"

"He'll just want more!"

The taxi driver eyes them from the rearview mirror. He reaches behind and says in Javanese-accented English, "Give me the money, ma'am. I will give it to him."

Still frowning, Piper hands the driver the money. She does not like Len, she decides.

The ride continues in silence. It circles the Hotel Indonesia Roundabout, but when Piper thinks that they are heading to the hotel after whom the roundabout is named, the driver continues in the direction of a Grand Hyatt.

Len grins at her in an apparent attempt to redeem his previous shit. "That one you see, the Hotel Indonesia—it's under renovation. Kempinsky bags it, I think. Fucking capitalism." Len snickers. "Alex said you like the Mandarin Oriental." [4]

For the first time since last night, she can smile. "Yeah."

"Well, thank god she remembered that," Len winks, "and upgraded it to Hyatt."

Len drops her at her Grand King room on the seventh floor, and Piper does not trouble herself by extending her courtesy at him. They disgust each other, so why bother?

She flops down on the king-sized bed, gazing at the ceiling. What to do now? Wait for Alex? Sleep? Stroll around the hotel? Get out and see what Jakarta has to offer? Her window has the pool view, and that is what helps her decide as midday approaches. Swim first, think later. Let the water wash away all the muddled thoughts.

The Grand Hyatt's urban pool, shaped like a lagoon in the middle of a Balinese tropical garden, takes Piper's mind off everything—at least for a while. There are only a few hotel patrons around at that time of day, and Piper is glad for less distraction. She finishes several laps before stopping to a rest at the side of the pool that faces the live seafood tank in the Seafood Terrace eatery.

"Hey there."

She looks up to find a man, forty-ish and clean-shaved, standing not to far from where she is lounging.

"You just got here?" he asks.

"In the pool?"

The man laughs. "Well, that, too. But I mean Jakarta." He shrugs. "I frequent this pool, and it's the first time I see you here. By the way, care to join me? They've got a fab wake up juice here." He points at the Seafood Terrace with his thumb.

"Sure." Piper grabs her swimming robe and follows him. "Been here for a long time?"

"Two weeks. Company merger shit and stuff."

Piper nods and browses the menu.

"I can be your guide around if you want."

_Whoa_, Piper thinks. Typical men abroad, she has learned. Men who become lonely and are dying for a companion of whatever kind.

_Typical _people_ abroad, you mean?_ her mind suggests a correction, but Piper does not bother to counter it.

"This city does have gems, you know."

"She's taken."

That voice, gliding through the air with its raspy coldness. That arm, sliding to wind around her waist with its precise familiarity. That breath, landing on her neck all cool and warm at the same time.

She has never been happier for Alex's timing.

The man's face scrunches up with embarrassment. "Hey, chill. I'm just offering to be a guide."

"She's already had a much better guide," Alex retorts.

This time his face twists in a sneer. "Fucking dykes."

"Fucking cockblock."

As the man takes his disgraced exit, Piper turns in Alex's half hug and kisses her on the cheek, a return for the one at the airport this morning.

Alex tilts her head to the side, raising eyebrows and half smirking. "That's what you get when you wander around in a bikini." She eyes the glimpse Piper's blue bikini that peeks through the gap of her swimming robe.

Piper pulls her swimming robe close. "I bought it for someone, and it's too bad she's disappeared before I had the chance to show her."

"Poor baby." Alex places a hand at the small of her back, leading her to leave the Seafood Terrace. Luckily it is only two-floor far from their room. Piper slides in the card into the slot to open the door, and Alex but presses her against the wall next to the door. "Why don't you leave your someone and be with me?"

"Mm. I don't know." She hums as the tip of Alex's tongue tickles her throat. She tastes of chlorine, she knows. Alex really has a weird level of tolerance. "My someone is kinda scary."

Alex pulls the belt of Piper's swimming robe open, letting it slide down to the floor. "Scary?" she laughs. "All the more reasons to be with me, then, because I'm sugar and spice and everything nice."

_No, you're not_, Piper wants to say aloud. _You're fire and everything that burns._

Alex guides Piper's legs one by one to have them wrapped around her hips. She carries Piper for the short distance from the wall to the bed. Depositing Piper on the bed gently, first with Piper sitting and her kneeling then both lying on their side facing each other, Alex runs her finger over the necklace Piper wears.

"Why are we always a tangled mess in bed?" she asks, laughing, taking off Alex's glasses and placing them away safely, sliding Alex's jacket off her shoulder, and unbuttoning the first three buttons of Alex's shirt.

"I like you in bed," Alex replies, shrugging. One of her legs slips between Piper's, and she dips her head down and touches her left temple to Piper's chin. "God, I wish I could carry you around in my pocket all the time."

Piper kisses the hairline on the side of Alex's face. "Try smuggling me to Neverland, perhaps?"

"Nah, no. I'd rather fly together."

"Mm-hmm. We'll need a happy thought, then." She closes her eyes, for a while letting Alex's presence overwhelm the jarring sensation of being in an unfamiliar place. "Mine's gotta be that time we scuba dived. We saw this wreck of USS Liberty and a manta ray, and there's a giant mola-mola. You freaked out when I approached it."

Alex's snicker falls in the form of warm breath and muffled voice. "That's an understatement. I fucking frothed at the mouth."

"Really?" She pulls Alex up to eye level.

"Pipes, that fish was bigger than you. Like, triple your fucking size. I mean, have you seen _Jaws_?"

Piper blinks. Then a chuckle makes itself known. Then a guffaw is out. "God, Alex," she gasps out, still cracking. "I can't believe—_Jaws_? Seriously?"

"Hey, I had nightmares after I watched it for the first time."

"But—really?" The annoyed-as-hell front is back, and Piper is really, really tempted to see if Alex sulks.

"Laugh all you want," Alex says, "but by the time I'm through, we'll see who laughs last."

"That's corny even for your standard." Still laughing, though not as hysterical as before, Piper opens her legs wider and welcomes Alex's body to sink onto hers. "You suck."

"And lick and swallow, too."

Her last chuckle dies in Alex's mouth as Alex surges forward. The moment Alex's tongue is in her mouth, Piper sucks on it and dear god, she should compliment the way Alex bucks into her. She tightens her legs around Alex's hips, locking her ankles at the small of Alex's back, squeezing her. Alex gets a hold of both of her hands, pinning them down to the bed, the clutch almost rough against her wrists.

A hand leaves her wrist and trails down to the open of her swimming robe. Alex pushes the material away from her shoulder, reaching around to get to each knot of Piper's bikini top on her nape and her back. The flimsy material gaps open, and Alex hums an approving sound against her mouth.

Her fingers on Piper's waist, tickling. Her fingers on Piper's hipbone, teasing. Her fingers on Piper's bikini bottom, impatient.

Piper tears her mouth away and breaks the kissing to toss her head back and moan out loud as Alex's fingers find her clit. And there is that glorious, slooow push into her.

"Fuuuck."

Alex grins. And adjusts herself. And puts all her weight behind her hand. She gets Piper to the point of no return quickly, Piper herself being too worked over. There is too much happening that day, and Piper does not have the patience to draw things out.

Alex has her mouth on Piper's collarbone, and she sucks the skin into her mouth. Hard. Piper is sure there will be bruises there. A mark, she realizes. She has never been into marking before.

Not enough. So not enough. She presses Alex into her harder, wanting to be enveloped by her and to be consumed into her at the same time. An arm sneaks under Alex's shoulder, clawing at her shoulder blade; another cups Alex's nape, fingers clutching at the strands of dark hair. Alex's fingers inside her curl, and it does not takes long before Piper comes, mouth gaping open, nose pressed against Alex's hair, all limbs tensing and the next second going boneless.

Limbs still attached to Alex, she is reluctant to let Alex roll to the side, head supported by a hand and the other playing with her damp hair, as if they have never moved from Le Méridien Nirwana's patio.

"I've found a poem I want to read to you."

"Yeah?" Alex thumbs Piper's lower lip gently, soothing a crease left from her biting earlier. "By the same poet you read to me before?"

Piper nods. She draws in a breath. "'And Adam descends to the forest – to disappear in myth. And we're suddenly here – gazing up at the sky: empty-still.' [5]

Alex is quiet for a while, but a small smile dances in her eyes. "That's... okay." Her lips smile following her eyes. "Do you think Adam is lonely?"

"Not really," Piper says. _Just jarred, rattled, and unprepared for things. For the newness of things. For reality._ "Just... missing someone, I guess."

And in the span of mere milliseconds, there are surprise, disbelief, doubt, understanding, and at last acceptance come into view on Alex's face. Her eyes are more honest than her expression, in a way, and Piper forces down her own surprise at the way Alex's eyes soften and gentle.

"Makes sense," Alex says. Then she adds in a lighter, more familiar tone. "Good thing he's got Eve to sex up his life."

"Why do you always have your mind in the gutter?"

"Because I'm good at it and you like it so much?"

This superjerk, really. Piper throws a leg over Alex's hip and pushes Alex onto the bed by her shoulders. "Don't promise me anything when you have a ton of work to do."

Alex laughs as Piper continues unbuttoning her shirt, shucking it away and leaving them skin-to-skin. "We'll leave work for tomorrow."

Piper props herself on her elbows, gazing down at Alex. "And today?"

"And today—" Alex says, already pulling Piper down, "today we'll live."

Piper can live with that.

-.-.-.-

A bad morning is a morning broken by a noise.

There's a constant beeping of the phone alarm. Is it hers? Or Alex's? Kind of hard to tell now that they have the same brand and type, Piper thinks, amused. She gropes behind her to get Alex. The night table is on Alex's side of the bed, after all, and the jerk can sleep through a storm except when there is work or Four Barrel's espresso.

Her hand finds nothing.

"Alex?"

Her call finds no reply.

She turns around. Alex's side of the bed is creased and there is a dip on the pillow the size of her head, but she is not there. Piper tries to pick up any sound that may come from the bathroom or the living room. Still nothing. Getting into a sitting position, her eyes catch a piece of paper near Alex's pillow.

It reads: _'Pipes, sorry. Have to go to Kuala Lumpur. Work stuff. I'll call you a.s.a.p. If you need anything, ask Len. Kiss, Alex.'_

She then reaches for Alex's phone and turns off the alarm. The room is quiet again, a little too quiet, even. Can a morning be broken by silence instead of by noise, Piper wonders. That will be the worst morning.

Her phone rings while she is folding Alex's note into two.

"Hello?"

"Morning, girl! It's Len. It's a good day for shopping. Get your ass ready, and I'll pick you up at 11. Let Vause enjoy Malaysia, and we gonna do Jakarta. She told you, ain't she?"

Piper puts down the now folded note. She does not answer.

A knowing laugh. "Look, honey. She busy dealing stuff with Jack, trying to outdo Fahri. You know Fahri, right? Damn woman is hot and all, but she working like a dog." A laugh again. "Bet she been upping her level in Southeast Asia all this time."

She swallows. "At 11, right? I'll get ready."

"That's the spirit. See you in the lobby!"

Piper waits until the line disconnects, lowering the phone to her lap. The folded note and the phone stare back at her, perhaps wondering why she follows morning into the silence.

_Well_, Piper looks around the room. Alex's laptop is gone, along with her DKNY leather shoulder bag and padfolio envelope and her jacket. _Of things important to her, I am not included,_ she thinks in glum comprehension.

_Going down the pity fest road already, eh?_ her mind interjects.

_Am I,_ she returns.

_What do you think?_

_I don't know._

_Ah, right._ Her mind laughs. _It's part of your things-I-don't-need-to-know-now, after all. Is it still too dangerous to know now?_

She sighs and flops back onto the bed, not knowing what her answer will be and not wanting to know what her answer will be either.

Her mornings in Bali always start by greeting Bali good morning. Her first day in Jakarta is similar, too, except that the greeting is done at the airport. Today, out of the many greetings she has in mind, there is only one she really wants to say.

_Good morning, Alex._

_Do you ever think of me?_

-.-.-.-

Footnote:

[1] A five-star resort famous for its beach landscape and golf field in southern Bali who in 2010 changed its name to Pan Pacific Nirwana Resort.

[2] Sapardi Djoko Damono's _After a Brief Conversation_, translated to English by John H. McGlynn.

[3] _Finding Nemo_ is released in May 2003.

[4] Memoir!_Orange_: In Chicago, Piper (Kerman) and Nora stayed at the Congress Hotel. Piper thinks it's a dump because she's used to the Mandarin Oriental.

[5] Sapardi Djoko Damono's _Distance_, translation by me.

-.-.-.-

Note:

*_Vivere pericoloso_ (Italian): to live dangerously. Popularized by Indonesian president Soekarno in a 1964 address to the nation, a 1978 novel by Christopher Koch, and later a 1983 movie adaptation starring Mel Gibson, Sigourney Weaver, and Linda Hunt (whose performance _as a man_ won an Oscar). It's perhaps adapted from _vivere al sicuro è pericoloso_ (to live safe is dangerous).

Most of the mention of the places in Bali and Jakarta and the people Piper meet there, including Jack and the unnamed gay Chicago mule, is based on memoir!_Orange_. I take the liberty in providing the details and picking their hotel in Bali.

-.-.-.-


	9. birthday girl just wants to have fun

**Pieces**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: _Orange is the New Black_ belongs to Jenji Kohan and her amazing team. _Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women's Prison_ belongs to Piper Kerman.

AN: for my beta A, for her birthday. Every review for this chapter goes to her.

-.-.-.-

_pieces of you  
__pieces of you  
__lie in me inches deep_

-.-.-.-

**nine – birthday girl just wants to have fun**

After a week, Alex returns.

She returns in the wee hours of the morning and slips into the hotel room quietly, as if not wanting to wake Piper, only creating small rustling sounds as she puts her shoulder bag and takes off her boots. Piper lies still, her back to Alex, more because of not knowing how to face Alex than not wanting to face her.

An extra weight dips the bed. The blanket is raised, and Alex's body curls to fit Piper's from behind. An arm slips beneath her and winds itself around her waist. A kiss touches her shoulder, and a gentle hand strokes her hair. She feels another kiss on her nape, right on her fish tattoo. She smells faint trace of cigarette and brandy and airport scent, and she tastes both weariness and relief in the air.

_Well, even God rests on the seventh day_, her mind says.

She wonders if God comes home after creating everything and if God feels glad to come home. Or, perhaps, that's the whole point of the creation of the world: to have people to come home to.

Which, in traveling, may become the most easily diluted sense.

Traveling liberates, but it doesn't provide a home. Instead, it creates a swing—between the familiarity and the newness of things, between the comfortable and the challenging, between the mundane and the exciting. In her case, this week sees her mood swing from angry to horny and her emotion from highly positive to downright negative. And a swing, after all, requires two parts: a state of being suspended and an axis. And how is she supposed to not think of Alex as a kind of axis of her life lately? She defines her life by Alex: as Alex's companion, travelmate, bedmate, fuck buddy, pseudo-girlfriend, whatever-you-name-it thing. Alex is the only face she knows in the middle of a hundred at several airports, a thousand in southern Bali, and a million in Jakarta. Alex is the only one she can turn to among the many people Piper does not know, people who do not speak her language, people who will never take her as one of them.

A state of being suspended, checked. An axis, checked.

_Congratulations of completing your swing_, her mind remarks dryly.

She sighs.

Thus begins her wait for a sleep that never comes.

-.-.-.-

Morning sees them plastered against each other.

Alex resembles a human starfish with limbs spread out, at the same time clutching the blanket, her pillow, and Piper to herself. Half underneath Piper, her head is tucked under Piper's chin, and her legs are intertwined with Piper's in an unconscious search for warmth. _When did I fall asleep,_ Piper wonders. _No, scratch that. When did this overgrown blanket hogger get to sleep _on_ me?_

Alex has really, really nice shoulders, by the way.

The fish tattoo on her nape is a good reminder of that.

She remembers refusing to lie down when getting tattooed, so the tattoo artist arranges that she sits, straddling the cot with her back to him. Head bowed and neck bent, she has never been more terrified of heat and pain than the moment she hears the buzz of the tattoo machine. _Guns_, she remembers a college friend once says about tattoo machines. _Most tattoo artists hate the term, but I can't see why us common people can't call it that. Because, you know, it's true._

The first touch of the needle on her skin is a sharp sting, and she starts.

Across the room, Alex notices. She moves to sit in front of her, also straddling the lean cot. _Hang in there, kid,_ she says. _The first time is always the worst._ Then she shifts and guides Piper's head down so that Piper's forehead rests on her shoulder. Holding Piper's hair to the side, she looks over to see the neat work of the tattoo artist. _It's gonna be great,_ Alex says, as if assuring her of her decision.

She remembers the quiet up and down rhythm of Alex's shoulder as she breathes, remembers closing her eyes to focus on Alex's scent amidst the haze of ink and disinfectant, remembers Alex's smooth, cool cheek on her temple, remembers Alex humming an old Motown number in her ear. _Baby, ev'rything is all right, uptight, out of sight. _Stevie Wonder's, Piper realizes.

Superjerk can be supercheesy, really.

But that does not explain why she ends up humming along, she remembers.

"Stop thinking."

Speak of the devil. "Are you up?"

"Don't want to, but I am." A yawn. Nose grazing her collarbone. "Should I buy a hamster wheel for your brain?"

"What?"

A grumble. "Fucking morning people."

She frees an arm from the weight of Alex's body and reaches up to play with Alex's hair. Pressing her chin to the top of Alex's head, she hums the same tone from her memory of getting tattooed.

Alex raises her head, narrowing sleepy eyes at her. "Isn't this too early for Motown?"

She grins. "Uptight, aren't you?" There are lines under Alex's eyes that are more accentuated when she squints, Piper has just realized. There are also faint lines on the corners of her eyes and mouth. "Never struck me as one before."

Alex rolls her eyes and drops her head back on Piper's cleavage.

"Hey, you're giving up a chance for bantering in favor of smothering my boobs?"

"Wrong. I'm vacationing here."

Chuckling, she goes back to stroking Alex's hair. "Why doesn't that surprise me."

"Because you know you'd do the same if the roles were reversed."

She snorts. "Your sex-crazed mind is sometimes too simple for a twenty-eight-year old."

"Twenty-nine."

"What?"

"You heard me."

She pulls at Alex's hair, a bit none too gently, and the wince on Alex's face as she comes at her eye level makes her feel bad a little. But anyway. The jerk deserves it. "When?"

"Yesterday."

"You didn't tell me."

"You didn't ask."

This again? Just like with the subject of her mom? Turning her curiosity into guilt—again?

Yawning, Alex rises from the bed to go the bathroom. Piper uses the time to process this—whatever this may be. Good gracious lord. How does one chip off Alex Vause's wall of defense? Wait. No. Is there any wall at all? Isn't Alex Vause herself a wall? A barbed, thorny, canon-equipped wall?

_You'll need a sledgehammer for that—preferably a strong one,_ her mind supplies.

_I don't even have a fucking tool on sight,_ she snaps.

_Well, make one, then._

Taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, she rises as well and goes to the bathroom. She knocks on the door, and Alex, who is currently brushing her teeth, opens it for her. Ah yes, teeth brushing. It may not be the first step to building a sledgehammer, but this will do for now. At least she can stand next to Alex the Barbed, Thorny, and Canon-equipped Wall without getting prickled. Teeth brushing is good for now.

She rinses her mouth afterward, bending at the waist to spit the mouthwash into the sink. Wordlessly, Alex holds her hair back when she notices that Piper is struggling with her toothbrush and mouthwash cup. She straightens up, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and leans to kiss Alex on the cheek.

"Thank you."

"Yeah." Alex's voice is soft, but her tone is dismissive. It is one that Piper now recognizes as her _you're welcome_ tone. "Anyway, as a late celebration of my birthday, your presence is required for a trip to Mother Nature's bosoms."

"Uhm—what?"

"Jesus, Pipes. We're going out. Snorkeling, trekking, hiking. All the stuff that tickles your outdoor heart pickle."

She regards it for a moment. "You hate rigorous activities."

"Except fucking, yeah. But _you_ love them."

Oh.

_Oh_.

"You were planning for this." A statement. Not a question. So this is what Alex wants to say that time on the Le Méridien Nirwana's patio before that call from Jack the Jackass.

Alex shrugs nonchalantly, lets go of Piper's hair, and steals a quick kiss from her neck. "Then some idiots had to mess up in Malaysia." Alex moves to stand behind her, arms around her waist. "Didn't have a chance to say this before I left, but sorry, Pipes."

She leans backward against Alex, watching their reflection on the bathroom mirror. "Was it always that easy to get to Malaysia without preparation?"

"Well, US citizens don't need to apply for visa to most Southeast Asian countries." Alex nudges Piper's jaw with her chin. "What about this? After this trip, pick any country you want to visit, and we'll go."

She turns around in Alex's arms. "Where are we going for the trip?"

"Krakatau."

She blinks. "Where?"

"Krakatau," Alex repeats. "This year marks the 120th anniversary of its catastrophic eruption, and ever since I read Simon Winchester's book [1], I've always wanted to visit it."

She winds her arms around Alex's neck. "Drawn to disasters as always."

"Why yes, if by disasters you mean you."

"S'not my fault you're always willing to take part in a bang."

"I'm always up for a bang." Alex's fingertips start to tease the skin beneath the hem of Piper's shirt.

"Well," she strokes the baby hair on Alex's nape, "but before that..."

What's in a kiss, Piper often wonders. Shakespearean shits and all—if any, now she knows a kiss is at its best in a flash. Her lips on Alex's. Consummation by heat. Alex's presence swarming around her, engulfing her, whizzing past her senses. Her fingers through Alex's hair. Alex angling her head, noses sliding against each other. _Wait for it, Piper. Wait for it._ Alex's tongue sliding past hers. Her own stomach lurching with pleasure. A repeat. Twice. Then thrice. _Endure it, Piper. Endure it._ A series of shudders. A string of throaty moans. Can they stay like this forever, she wonders. Please? Yes. What is air but a thoroughly overrated concept? Yes.

Somehow, it is Alex who gentles the open-mouthed, eager kisses into more relaxed, lazy ones—Piper's favorite take-your-time, lose-yourself, and kiss-for-the-sake-of-kissing kisses.

"Bang," Alex whispers as they break with a pant.

_Nonononono. Don't go. I'll bitchslap whoever wants to wish this away. Come back._ Piper yanks her back with a grunt, but it only makes Alex chuckles. "Smartass," she mumbles against Alex's lips. _Why am I always the one who comes to you? Are you made of 99% heroin and 1% black magic? But you know what? Fuck you. Fuck you to the moon and back. Stress on 'back.' Just come back._

But Alex's eyes are weary and her shoulders are tense, and she knows that she needs to cool down and Alex needs to rest.

"I didn't have a chance to say this either," she says, "but good morning, Al."

Alex looks surprised for a moment. "Giving me a nickname now?"

"What? You prefer jerk or supercunt?"

"Not really." Alex laughs then, quietly, adds, "I like it."

"You'd better."

Alex smiles into the kiss.

-.-.-.-

Later at night, Alex takes her to Tanamur, a nightclub so sybaritic and so obscene it borderlines a brothel. [2] Even the holiest of a saint would turn into a sinner after spending some time in Tanamur, Piper thinks. It's the first nightclub in Southeast Asia, Alex tells her. It's so legendary and enduring that people jokingly call it the David Bowie of nightclubs. Piper only finds it somehow ironic that it is owned by an Arab-Indonesian—she _is_ definitely biased here, Alex tells her—and it's located adjacent to the Indonesian National Monument, a phallic landmark built to commemorate the Indonesian struggle for independence.

_This is also freedom, don't you think?_ Alex replies when she tells her. _To do what you want to do._

_Or, in Alex's case,_ Piper muses, _to do what your hands want to do._

Just like on their first date in Boston, Alex's hands are a pair of tease at their worst. At their absolute worst. A friendly pelvic grab. A pull at her waist. A squeeze with her fingers grazing the underside of her breasts. A nudge at the small of her back. The very tips of Alex's fingers slipping beneath the waistline of her miniskirt and brushing the skin. Each and every single one of them sends Piper's brain off the nightclub to cross the Pacific and land in a quiet suburban Connecticut house where her mother keeps reminding her to get "the right boy."

_Who needs boys when you have Alex Vause's hands,_ she humors the idea, amused.

_And her mouth and her tongue,_ her mind adds.

Aptly, the DJ plays a new number with a low beat R&B sound. Catchy, Piper thinks, and her brain kicks into working on some moves.

"C'mon." She tugs at Alex's hand.

Alex grins. "Gonna pull a striptease stunt on me again?"

She rolls her eyes.

Tanamur's speakers fittingly blast '_I can teach you but I have to charge_' [3] the moment she and Alex, both half drunk on vodka, Jack D on the rocks, and Heineken, join the floor. Really, she starts as an embarrassing dork, a sweeping move on the shoulder, a stunted locking turn, and a little twerk, but Alex goes along with her.

"Step it up, ladies!" someone shouts.

"We ain't need no hilarious here, vanillas! Give us some fire!" another adds.

Alex slides down her front only to straighten up, raising her eyebrows. "You heard the crowd," she says, smirking. Her arm around Piper's waist pulls her close, so close that they are now front-to-front and her nose grazes Piper's. She steals a quick peck on one corner of Piper's mouth, and turns Piper around.

Piper's cheeks burn as her rear presses against Alex's groin and Alex's fingers slip beneath her waistband. Then a push. And another.

_Are we humping? Oh god. We're humping, aren't we? Oh my god._

_Jesus, self, calm your tits. It's humping, not fucking,_ her inner voice scolds. Then it adds in a suggestive codicil Piper can almost hear the leer. _But I don't mind if this escalates into fucking, by the way._

_You just want a hot body to fuck,_ she scowls.

_Pot, meet kettle._

Alex's fingers dance across her abdomen, taunting still, and she changes their position so that she is now in the front. Her hand pulls one of Piper's and places it around her waist. "Time to bring all the boys to the yard," she whispers, tilting her head, the tip of her tongue teasing Piper's ear and jaw.

Piper can't stop the humping even if she wants—not that she wants. She grinds and pulls Alex closer. Her high heels give her an advantage, and she can't stop herself either from dropping an open-mouthed kiss on the juncture between Alex's neck and shoulder or from squeezing Alex's midriff. "I don't want any boys in my yard," she whispers back, her voice so rough she cannot even recognize it as her own. "I want you." Her other hand crawls upward Alex's torso and slips inside her shirt, caressing Alex's collarbones and the top of her left breast. She gives a little squeeze, and Alex's breath hitches. Good. This is what she wants in her yard. "I want you." She clamps down on the pale skin of Alex's shoulder and bites and sucks. This is _who_ she wants in her yard. "I want you."

What does her mother says again about temptation? Oh yes. That she needs to pray to not be led into temptation and be delivered from the evil. But a little creativity will do two millennia of tradition good, no? So let's pray to whatever mighty being who may listen to her, be it a deity, alien, vodka, or drug dealing queen. _Lead me into temptation and not deliver me away from Alex's arms. Amen._

She doesn't remember the short taxi ride back to the Grand Hyatt. Or the unbearable façade of pretending not to make out drunkenly in the taxi and the elevator. Or the way she trembles from head to toes when Alex promises to fuck her blind, fuck her stupid, just plain fucking fuck her.

Yet she remembers nudging Alex towards the bedroom, asking her to lie down, wait, and close her eyes. And not to move. Not even an inch. Though not without frowning and grumbling, Alex does as she is told—for once.

She goes to take a red hair ribbon from one of the drawers of the cupboard and tie a bow with it around her neck.

Inhale.

She kneels beside and hovers above Alex, who is lying on her back on the bed.

Exhale.

"You may open your eyes."

She takes off Alex's glasses, sliding them down her nose and depositing them safely on the nightstand. She straightens and moves to straddle Alex's torso, back half arching, palms next to each of Alex's shoulders. Here goes nothing, she tells herself.

"Aren't you going to unwrap your birthday present?"

The intensity of Alex's eyes makes Piper shudder as she feels waves after waves of lust surfacing from the pit of her stomach. It's hot and slick, rolling around and in her belly, burning her from the inside. A shiver crawls up her back as Alex sobers up, face losing all its remaining playfulness and becoming a battlefield of only desire and more desire. Piper holds back the urge to moan out loud. Instead she leans down to whisper in Alex's ear, her cheek against Alex's, and she repeats the three words she has said three times in Tanamur.

She pulls back to look Alex in the eye, feeling a rush of satisfaction as she finds intense arousal there. She shakes her head a bit, and her hair falls down her shoulders, draping around both of their heads like a golden veil. Alex reaches her hands up the outer sides of Piper's thighs, slowly, so unbearably slowly, fingers gliding under her miniskirt to find the edge of her panties—soaked, ruined, gone, adieu, shalom. She pulls down the panties even more slowly, sliding them until they pool on Piper's knees.

"Scoot up," Alex growls. "Grab the headboard."

A loud moan is torn from Piper's mouth, throaty and feral and raw, as she adjusts herself. Her hold on the headboard almost turns her knuckles white. Alex lifts the hem of Piper's miniskirt until it reaches her pelvis, and she winds both arms around Piper's thighs, pulling her down.

Dear Jesus and Moses and all the prophets. Piper can't even look away now. She burns from the sight alone—Alex, down there, eyes on her, beneath her miniskirt, fingers digging into her flesh, about to—

She nearly topples forward when the first broad lick of Alex's tongue touches her, but Alex's hands on her thighs steady her. The way Alex's tongue dances—dear god. The way it flattens. Curls to the side. Opens the hood to expose her clit. Laps. And laps some more. Dear god. Dear fucking god of fucking.

"Al," she hisses, "please."

A hand lets go of her thigh and reaches up to take one of the bow's ends. Alex pulls, and the ribbon untangles itself in a smooth glide onto Piper's chest. The angry red is a stark contrast against Alex's pale skin, and Piper can't hold back a gasp. She slams Alex's hand onto the bed, intertwining her fingers tightly against Alex's, bowing, leaning forward so that her forehead leans on the headboard. Between her fingers and the ribbon, she feels Alex squeeze back.

"Please," she says, more pressing, more ravenous, more desperate. "_Please_. I need to come."

There's a beast, she remembers reading somewhere. There's a beast in everyone. It's constantly hidden, but there's time when it needs to let loose. It's constantly hungry and wanting, but there's time when it needs to feed. Right now, she isn't so sure if she has the beast in her or if she is _the_ beast.

Alex, apparently, listens to and complies with the beast. She _knows_ the beast.

Alex pulls her down even more firmly to her mouth. Her lips wrap around Piper's clit. And she sucks. And her tongue practices the art of feeding the beast as it flicks, then slows down, then circles. One particular strong swipe sends Piper spiraling into a release, and she gasps aloud.

But Alex doesn't stop.

Piper is lifted up further, and Alex's tongue slips from her clit. She chokes and whines and moans as Alex licks nearer and nearer to her entrance, keeping the eye contact all the time.

Inside?

"Inside," she replies breathlessly to the wordless question in Alex's eyes. "_Inside_."

Then the glorious, talented tongue pushes inside her, and Piper _screams_. She lets go of the headboard and Alex's hand, grabs onto the dark tresses splayed on the pillow, pushes downward, and just flat out rides Alex's tongue. She's barely aware of the way her bony knees dig into Alex's shoulders, of the wet, lewd noise they both create, and of the way Alex's fingers open her for her tongue to get deeper, so much deeper.

Then two fingers push inside her and presses hard against her sweet spot as Alex's lips returns to suck her clit and her tongue to play with it and everything becomes too much and it's torture and pleasure both and the beast howls and Alex feeds it even more and it's a great flood of Noah's legendary level and then _it's a bang_.

The last thing she remembers before succumbing to welcoming darkness is the way Alex catches her as she falls.

-.-.-.-

The Pussy Bandit with a Tongue that Should Come with a Safety Warning fucking _glows_ the next day as she gets Piper ready for the Krakatau trip. Her smile does not even come close to resemble a human smile because it's just pursed lips, pure smug smirk, and evil grin rolled into one. Lucifer will be so proud of her, really. If only Piper is not too beat, she would have slapped Alex upside down already.

Then again, the jerk does tuck her in last night, hold her the whole night, and dress her in the morning. Piper guesses for the time being Alex is forgiven—as long as she does not bring up last night's bravura of supernova level.

Plus, Alex's shoulder makes a good pillow for the three-hour drive to the far western part of Java.

_Not complaining_, her mind singsongs. _Not complaining at all._

_Get out._

_You mean black out, perhaps?_

_Shut up._

They arrive in Merak, a port so busy yet so filthy so unlike San Francisco's Pier 39, and take a ferry to cross to Bakauheni, another busy port but this time in Sumatra. Piper mentally congratulates herself for stepping her feet in another island of Indonesia—not that it is a great achievement, anyway, but three islands out of 18,000? She deserves even the smallest pat on the back, even if she has to do it herself.

The pat on the back materializes itself as Alex prods her gently towards the direction of a boat parked in one of Bakauheni's private piers.

"We're not there yet?"

"Another three-hour trip by boat, and we'll be there." The glow is back on Alex's face as she lights up. "You know, last night I had to built a fucking arc to escape from the great flood, ri—mmph."

The jerk deserves the smack to the mouth, really.

Alex seizes her hand and drops a kiss at the back. "Next time you want to shut me up," she takes a dramatic pause, "do it with your mouth." Reaching behind Piper's head, she twirls a few strands of Piper's hair not tied with the red ribbon from last night's episode and kisses them as well. "I did great with your hairdo, don't you think?"

Piper rolls her eyes and is about to throw a counter when the Alex beats her to it.

"Careful, kid. If you roll your eyes so hard, it might stick permanently to the back of your head."

Can somebody just duct tape the Pussy Bandit, please? No? Really? Damn. An Alex Vause and her foul mouth alone are a bad romance, but a glowing Alex Vause and her foul mouth are a match made in hell.

Her mind cackles. _From god to temptation and evil and hell. How far you've fallen, self._

The boat takes them to Pier Canti, where they stop for a quick lunch and pick their local guest, then to a snorkeling spot near Sebesi Island.

"First time here, miss?" their guide asks from the boat as they snorkel.

Piper wonders if there is something on her face that tells people her lack of traveling experience, but she just nods. This is also Alex's first time to Krakatau, too, but nobody asks her the phatic question. Is it the way she so easily carries herself even among strangers? Or is it the way she adapts and never falters, not even once? Or is it her sharp bearing, armed with book knowledge and keen observation skills?

Like, well, not everybody can recall the details about Krakatau, a legendary volcano so vicious back then that when it erupts in 1883, it messes with the global temperature, sends tsunami waves that reach even South Africa, and paints the world's sky dark for years afterward.

Imagine what the world can reap if only Alex Vause goes to college. She can be a modern day Herodotus, or exchanging wits with Voltaire, or discussing Adorno's theory on popular culture with Umberto Eco, or TA-ing for Benedict Anderson and Ruth McVey in their Indonesian studies class in Cornell.

_Or deprives the world one less heroin importer_, her mind says.

_Or simply deprives _me_ of a very comfortable pillow,_ she returns.

She stops thinking about the what-ifs when she returns to the boat to sail to the main island of Krakatau. Anak Krakatau, the locals call it. The Child of Krakatau. It's the only remnant of the once mighty volcano, and being much smaller than its mother, it takes only a good forty-five minutes of hiking to get to the caldera.

Alex blanches at hearing the possibility of a long walk, and Piper can't help chuckling at the memory of a running out of breath Alex at the top tier of Besakih Temple.

"You're not gonna die," she teases. "Just wheezing your way to extreme fatigue, probably. But hey, it'll be another pro reason why you should stop smoking."

"What about you go and I wait here?"

She glares at her. "You and I are both going."

Alex folds her hands in front of her chest. No, not sulking—though Piper wishes so. Alex Vause does not sulk, unfortunately. "I'm still fucking enslaved even in my birthday celebration."

Before reaching the caldera, their guide leads them to show a hidden spot nearby, and it turns out to be a thirty-feet tall small waterfall. The gorge below it is green, and it's pregnant with the white foam from the waterfall.

Piper turns to their guide. "Is it okay to swim down there?" she shouts to make herself heard amidst the roaring water, pointing at the gorge.

"Yes, miss," the guide shouts back. "It's not that deep. If you want to swim, I can show you the way after we reach the caldera."

Alex looks over the gorge. "I bet people would out-dare each other jumping from here," she comments dryly.

An idea pops in Piper's mind. "Have you seen people jump from here before?" she asks the guide.

"Yes, miss. Mostly crazy tourists."

"Have you jumped?"

The guide shakes his head, laughing. "No, miss."

Alex watches her warily. "Piper," she calls with a warning.

She is already halfway to stripping to her bikini. "Come on, Al. It's gonna be fun." She grins. "I dare you."

Alex slides her glasses up to her hair. "You do not." Her frown curves deeper between her eyebrows, but she relents and discards her zipped hoodie and pants. "I still don't think it's a good idea," she says.

"I do." She grins wider, knowing that Alex will never turn down a dare. She learns from the experience, after all. The last time she challenges Alex, Alex ends up drinking nearly a half galloon of Irish whiskey. She pulls Alex to a big rock at the top of the waterfall. "Do you need to hold my hand?" she teases, reaching out a hand.

Alex glares at her. "In your dream, kid."

She chuckles. "Don't forget to hold your nose."

Alex flips her off.

"Okay, so this is our you-jump-I-jump situation." She takes a deep breath, preparing herself, then exhales. "Ready?" Then she turns at their guide. "Would you please count for us?"

He nods and shouts, "One."

Alex scowls.

"Two."

"Pipes, look. You're still tired."

She bends at the waist, summoning all her courage and ignoring Alex's unnecessary concern. If she can approach a mola-mola three times her size in Tulamben and brace the pain of getting tattooed, she can do this one, too. No more a fucking debutante. No more _first time, miss?_ question.

"Three!"

She flings herself into the air. For a second, there is only herself and her heartbeat. The river's surface is waiting, and she is reminded of what Langston Hughes writes: the face of the river is asking for a kiss. Then... a plunge. The water's roar mixes with her shriek and Alex's cry of her name and the guide's surprised laughter.

She burst the surface, laughing and exhilarated. [4]

"I did it! That's fun, right, Al?"

Her laughter dies as she spots Alex still on the rock up there, and it slugs her in the stomach as hard as the handwritten note on Alex's Grand Hyatt pillow does to her a week ago.

She sees Alex shake her head and climb down to get to her.

_She doesn't jump,_ Piper thinks numbly. _She doesn't jump._

"...Fuck."

"You're fucking crazy!" Alex hollers as she gets down, jumping into the gorge and roughly yanking her to the shore. "What the hell were you thinking!"

She doesn't even have the will to free her arm from Alex's none too gently grip. "So you weren't planning to jump at all?"

"Fuck no!" Alex spits—Piper has never seen her this angry. "You're fucking out of your fucking mind!"

Piper's mind swarms. Geez, thanks? Somehow that makes the slug to the stomach feel three times worse. What does she do to deserve the F bombs? Fucking thanks. Alex is the one who does not jump, damn it. She trusts Alex to jump with her, and Alex does not fucking jump. Jerk does not have the right to be angry from not fucking jumping!

Their guide gets them with their clothes in his hands. It is time to go back to the boat, Piper realizes. Alex releases her arm with a look of disgust, more at herself than at anyone, but it still does not answer Piper's question of why she is so angry. They dress in silence, and the boat trip back to Bakauheni is uncomfortable. So much for shutting Alex up with her mouth, really.

Their ride to Jakarta is even more uncomfortable, and Len, who picks them up in Merak, raises an eyebrow at their silent treatment. _Suck it, Chicago spunk,_ Piper thinks. There's no time to think about what Len thinks. Alex. Focus on Alex. Piper does not know this Alex. Horny, smartass, sarcastic, uncouth, borderline cunning Alex she knows—though not always knows how to handle. Angry Alex? Please spare her this one.

"Hey, Alex," she begins, cursing herself internally for not knowing how to follow up afterward. "I—uhm—whatever it is, can we talk about it?"

"I'm not fucking discussing this with you," Alex snaps.

"Fine," she seethes. Alex is not the only one who can listen to her temper. "Fuck you."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Whatever. My hands are good enough."

"As if."

"You're not the only one who's well versed in Sapphic studies."

"Oh please. I've got a Ph.D on that."

"Yeah? I've never seen you publish anything."

"Because I show more than I tell, thank you."

Len eyes them on the rear view mirror. "You both are ridiculous."

They bark out in unison, "Shut up."

And it is the very unison that cracks the tension, really, because the corners of Alex's mouth curl upward slightly.

"I'm still fucking mad," Alex says.

"Okay," she says, but nevertheless she dares herself to lean her head on Alex's shoulder. Alex does not move away, so she takes it as a good sign. "If it's because of me, I'm sorry."

She hears Alex sigh, a short one, and from the corner of her eye sees Alex look outside the car's window.

It's almost midnight when they enter the Central Jakarta region, and it is only then that Alex speaks again.

"You don't have to prove anything, you know."

Half asleep from the weariness of the trip and the remaining tension, she looks up. Alex is still looking outside the window. She then asks, bracing for the worst possible answer, "Why didn't you jump?"

Alex stills.

She tenses and waits.

"Because, fuck you, kid, if you fucking kick the bucket from that jump, I fucking have to stay alive to raise you from death and fucking kill you again myself."

In the dark, she can't see Alex properly and because Alex is still looking away, she can't see Alex's expression at all. But Alex raises a hand, the same hand which shoulder she uses as a personal pillow, and gives a pat on the side of her head.

She holds Alex's hand against her cheek, savoring its warmth and closing her eyes again, and starts humming. Show and don't tell, right? She can do that.

_Baby, ev'rything is all right, uptight, out of sight._

But hope, Piper learns, stings and suffocates.

-.-.-.-

Footnote:

1 Simon Winchester's _Krakatoa: The Day the World Exploded_ is released in August 2003.

2 From memoir!_Orange_. However, Tanamur closes in mid-2000.

3 From TV!_Orange_ 1x09. Kelis' _Milkshake_ is first released in the US in August 2003.

4 From memoir!_Orange:_ the verbatim.

Also, the name in English is Krakatoa, but I decided to use Krakatau in honor of my mother tongue.


	10. carpe the hell of the damn diem

**Pieces**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: _Orange is the New Black_ belongs to Jenji Kohan and her amazing team. _Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women's Prison_ belongs to Piper Kerman.

AN: Many thanks to A, who stayed up late to beta this, and many thanks to you all, who bear this story.

-.-.-.-

_pieces of you  
__pieces of you  
__lie in me inches deep_

-.-.-.-

**ten – _carpe_ the hell of the damn _diem_**

-.-.-.-

For the first time Piper can remember, Alex is sleeping with her back to her.

She has had her time admiring other parts of Alex's figure: of Alex's shoulders, of the nice curve of her hips and thighs and calves, of her magical hands and fingers, and of every part of her face. Alex's back—well. That's another story—_the_ story for tonight.

Even in the dark of the bedroom and under the thin material of Alex's white singlet, her back speaks volumes. The shoulder blades speak of strength never hidden but never boasted either, the valley between them of endurance, the arch of the broad shoulders of protectiveness, and the curve that leads to her arms of loyalty. Now that Alex does not spend the night snickering at hotel movies or whispering dirty jokes, she hears Alex's back all too well.

A sudden shrill from Alex's phone on the nightstand breaks the stillness, and Piper curses internally as she nearly jumps. Hurriedly, she closes her eyes and hopes Alex does not realize that she's awake.

Alex picks up at the fifth ring, blindly reaching for her phone and mumbling a sleepy _Hello_. She then stills, and her voice breaks into a lighter tone. She shifts and throws away the blanket, walking to stand next to the window. Piper hears a soft _Hey, Mom_ before Alex turns around to look outside the window.

"Oh just board the plane and go. It's not a big deal." Alex pauses. "Yeah, I know." A pause. "No, no, I'm eating fine." A pause. "Tell Aunty Beth to just shut the fuck up about that." A pause and a chuckle. "Yeah, still the same person. Uh-huh. We've just got back from Krakatau. Fucking amazing volcano." A pause and a soft laugh. "I will. Thanks for the idea, Mom." A pause. "Mm-hmm. Lemme know when you hit Palm Beach, okay? Good. Alright. Bye, Mom."

A click resonates as Alex flips her phone close, and Piper holds her breath as she hears steps heading back to the bed. She hears a soft sigh, a rustle of the blanket, and a slide of a body next to her front. Alex's toes are cold against her shins, but that's the first contact she has since yesterday so she does not really mind. A palm cups her ear, slips her hair behind it, and for a brief moment lingers there.

Alex's hand retreats, and Piper hears yet another rustling sound. The next time she opens her eyes, it is Alex's back that she finds again.

She wonders if she should start crying, really. That works with her other lovers.

_Aha_, her mind jumps in. _Lovers, huh._

_Okay, my fault. I take that back._

Her mind is quiet again, and sleep reclaims her.

-.-.-.-

Alex is gone in the morning—again.

Piper leaps into a sitting position the moment her eyes can't find Alex's figure next to her. Again, there's a dip the shape of Alex's head on the pillow and the remainder of Alex's warmth on the bed, but Alex is not there.

And so is any dreadful note.

She throws herself back onto the bed with a frustrated groan. Alex could have just taken a walk around the hotel, she realizes. Or to the swimming pool. Or just out to avoid her. Alex is not leaving again, she concludes, trying to appease the stupid annoyance and stupid worry and stupid fear at being left again.

She turns to her side to look at Alex's pillow. Her hand reaches to grab and presses it against her body. Chanel No. 5's floral fragrance hits her sense, and she closes her eyes to savor everything—the scent, the memory, the familiarity.

"What are you doing snogging my pillow?"

Boy, does she jump at that voice. Turning around, pillow still clutched to her torso, she finds Alex at the doorway, dressed in a white shirt—sleeves rolled up to her elbows—and denim shorts. The amusement in her voice matches the one adorning her smirk.

Still smirking, Alex approaches the bed and sits next to the curve of Piper's body. "Are you substituting me?"

Her face grows hot, so hot that even the tips of her ears turn red. Damn the smooth criminal and her timing.

Eyes softening behind her glasses, Alex frees her pillow from Piper's arms. At Piper's protest, she pins Piper's hands to the bed. "I just went to print something," she admits—the closest to an apology Piper can get from her. "Anyway," she says, "back to your affair with my pillow."

She frees an arm from Alex's hold, folds it under her head like a pillow, and groans onto it. "You're not gonna fucking let it go, are you?"

Alex laughs—and to Piper's ears it is the best sound in the world. After all the tension since yesterday, it really is.

"Go ahead and enjoy your _schadenfreude_," she grumbles.

"It's the other way around, I assure you. It's called _mudita_."

"What?"

Alex shrugs. "You're happy because you see someone who is happy."

"Are you?"

Alex rolls her eyes and gives her a look that speaks a thousand _duh_s. "I don't lie, remember?" She lowers her glasses and winks from the top of their frame.

Wait. What? Rewind that, please. So the jerk is happy that she is thinking of her?

Whoa. _Whoa_.

What a jerk. Superjerk. Superjerk who makes Piper's morning by mastering the art of rolled-up sleeves and, though admitting she still has issues at hand, not leaving without notice again.

Really, she could do some kisses now.

She tugs at Alex's sleeve, making her bend even lower, taking Alex's glasses off, and putting it on herself. For a brief moment she feels dizzy from the corrective prescription of the glasses. Lowering them down to rest on the tip of her nose, she dons a grin.

"My dear pillow hogger and glasses snatcher," Alex murmurs, a small smile teasing at her lips.

Her heart almost—_almost!_—slams against her ribs at Alex's use of _my dear_.

Alex lands a peck on Piper's cheek and straightens up. "Get ready, kid. There is a flight to be caught at two-thirty and a new adventure to be had." She takes her glasses back, but she pushes them up her hair. Producing a folded proof of booking for Plataran Borobudur Resort and Spa from the chest pocket of her shirt, she waves it in front of Piper's nose. "Surprise, surprise."

She can get used to being the receiving end of this surprise daily, honestly.

-.-.-.-

Next time Alex Vause sprouts a random word, mark it down and make a dictionary entry out of it, Piper learns.

The new adventure Alex mentions turns out to be an evening tour in Central Java's Borobudur, world's largest Buddhist temple and Indonesia's most visited tourist attraction. Once abandoned in favor of the growing spread of Islam, buried under volcanic ash, and bombed by Muslim militants, the ninth century stone temple stands firm against multiple volcanic eruptions, hordes of visitors that climb its numerous stupas, and Time Almighty. Even for a self-proclaimed atheist like herself, Piper can't help but being awed by the majesty of the religious magnificence with its intricate stairway system and relief panels—or, rather, by the human might and will that conquer challenges to build it.

Alex predictably snickers at a relief panel that displays what looks like an ancient orgy party. "They sure were pretty creative back then," she says. Laughing, she points at one of the nearest stupas. "Wanna try your luck? Len says if you can touch the Buddha's bellybutton, your wish will be granted." She shrugs. "Kiddo knows his stuff, you know, holding a degree in Javanese Studies and shit from Northwestern."

"Oh," she says in a small voice.

Alex smirks. "You're not the only one with a college brain."

Embarrassed at Alex's knowing the way her mind works and at herself for her previous judgment, she can only pout. "Fine. I'm properly reprimanded. Can I try to touch the Buddha's bellybutton now?"

Alex makes a professional butler-like ushering motion. "If you'd please, milady."

"Just reach inside and touch it, right?" She reaches her hand in through one of the crevices in the stone stupa, arm stretched as far as possible, but her fingertips can't even graze the Buddha's bellybutton. "I can't," she gasps. "My arm isn't long enough."

Alex, nodding once, moves to stand behind her and sticks her hand inside the stupa. A moment later, she announces in triumph, "Got it."

"You did?" Clapping a little, she grins and says, "Hurry! Make a wish!"

"This isn't a fucking shooting star." Nevertheless, Alex closes her eyes for a second, seemingly in a wish-making gesture, and nods. "Done." She pulls out her hand, looking at it. "I don't feel any different, though." She holds out her hand to Piper. "See?"

"You need to use your imagination." Piper takes Alex's hand, clasping it in a firm handshake then looking at it closely. "Wait. Think you can transfer it to me?"

Alex's thumb rubs the back of Piper's hand softly. She too appears to study their linked hands. "Well, this is me transferring the power of wish granting to you."

"And this is me accepting the transfer." She meets Alex's eyes and smiles. "Thank you."

Alex returns the smile, and her eyes are gentle. "Anytime."

-.-.-.-

Later in the evening, Plataran holds a Javanese dance performance in its main lawn. Len comes with them, too, but he immediately excuses himself in favor of joining a group of seemingly scholarly people. Alex just nods affirmatively when Piper asks her if Len knows any of the resort's patrons.

"Do you know any of them?"

Alex tilts her head. "A few. That man, for example," she points with her chin at a white bearded man in a batik shirt near the pastry table, "is an Australian professor of Sundanese Studies who, as far as I know, works closely with Jack." She snickers. "Brilliantly smuggling smack in wooden puppets."

Her throat suddenly parches. "Brilliant?"

Alex nods. "Fucking brilliant. We don't always pick pea-brained mules, you know. Sometimes high profile figures rock, too. Or, as that Sherlock guy wrote, you need to know when to recognize genius." [1] Alex winks. "That's kinda my rule number two."

Piper wants to ask what rule number one is, but she is interrupted by a waitress in a Javanese traditional dress bringing a tray full of tall glasses. She takes two of what appear to be brownish concoction and hands one to Alex. She sniffs her drink first. "Ginger," she says after taking a sip. "Pretty good. I like it."

Alex takes a sip of hers, tasting and judging it. Then she grins. "I like her dress more, though. It'll look good on you, too."

Piper eyes the waitress before turning back to Alex. "The pattern _or_ the tight fitting?"

Lower lip pursed, Alex shrugs. "Learn to take a compliment, kid."

She rolls her eyes at the flirt. "Save it, Vause." Superjerk must be in a really good mood, she assumes.

_So when she's complimenting you, she's in a good mood?_ her mind asks. _And when she's honest, she's flirting?_

_How do you know she's honest and complimenting me?_

_How do you know she's not?_ her mind rebuts.

Her train of thought once again is interrupted—this time by Alex, who taps her on the shoulder and points at the temple with her thumb.

"Take a walk with me?" Alex offers her arm, smiling when Piper links her arm with hers. She pats the back of Piper's hand twice. "I like the party and all, but I could do better with a little booze."

"Well, ginger is good for your health, though."

"And booze is good for my sanity."

"Are you insinuating that a culture that serves no alcohol in a party is insane?"

Alex rolls her eyes. "Right. Remind me to always issue a fucking politically, historically, and cross-culturally correct statement in front of a college graduate."

She elbows the jerk in the ribs. "Remind me to always put a rein on your blunt, sardonic, no-nonsense self."

They take a narrow stone stairway to get to the lower lawn behind the stage. In the distance, Borobudur looms, illuminated by the light from the garden torches set for Plataran's dance performance. It is warm around the stage, but the part where they are now is cold and Piper does not have anything but a light pashmina with her. A night breeze passes them, and she shivers. Ever observant, Alex opens her arms in an invitation, hands in the pockets of her bomber jacket, and Piper immediately dives in. Alex laughs as Piper burrows herself into her and wraps the jacket around them both.

"Eager much?" she asks as Piper tucks her blond head under her chin.

"Well, you're a handy portable heater." She starts walking backward, leading the both of them.

"Ouch." Alex feigns a hurt expression. "Is that all I am to you?"

"Mm—no. Bed warmer, comforter, and human torch?"

"So basically I'm a walking bonfire to you."

"Mm-hm." She giggles. Jesus, Alex's jacket is really warm—or is it her?

"Well, always glad to know my hotness is appreciated."

"Or perhaps I'm just playing with you." She puts on a coy smile. "I'm just about to—whoa!"

She manages to catch herself before she stumbles backward and pulls Alex with her—damn walking backward for making her miss a small depression on the ground. Ungraceful falling avoided, her hand apparently still manages to knock Alex's glasses off, and in her attempt to keep her balance, she steps on them. The crack is loud between her yelp and Alex's swearing. Curse her luck for ruining the evening for good.

"Oh my god, I'm so, so sorry," she stammers. "You alright?"

"I'm fine." Grimacing a little, Alex rubs at her temple where Piper's hand has struck. "Didn't sprain your ankle or something, did you?"

"I'm—I'm fine." She looks down to see Alex's glasses. Or, more accurately, what is left of them. "Your glasses—"

"I have a spare pair in the room," Alex shrugs it off. "Seems like we need to cut the fun and go back." She looks to her left, squinting. "We came this way, right?"

"I think so," she replies, a bit distracted. She turns and starts walking, but it only takes her a few steps to realize that Alex is lagging behind. "Alex?"

"Go on. Lead the way."

It is only then that understanding dawns in her. How could she be so stupid? A near-sighted person without glasses in a barely well lit setting is practically visually impaired, and knowing Alex, she will not ask for help. Not ever. _Of fucking course_, Piper thinks. _I'm so slow sometimes._

Exhaling softly, she holds out a hand to Alex. Predictably, the jerk bristles like a cat led to a bath, and Piper raises her eyebrows challengingly. "Come on, Al. We both know you're blindish."

"Exactly. Blindish, not fucking blind."

"And it'll take forever for you to get back to the party."

"Don't you even try to imply I'm useless."

"Right now? You literally are." She impatiently hooks two of her fingers around two of Alex's.

If anything, Alex bristles even more, but she eventually relents. She even adjusts her hand so that her fingers curl against Piper's palm and her thumb strokes the back of Piper's hand just like earlier.

Piper shakes her head to clear her mind. _Remember your own rule, Chapman_, she schools herself. _You have a lot of stuff you don't want to know right now._ So be it. Alex's hand is warm in hers and her grip gentle and it is all right. It is everything she wants and knows right now.

She squeezes Alex's hand, once, tentatively, and spreads her fingers to fit them in the spaces between Alex's. She feels Alex squeeze back, once, equally tentative, then more firmly.

And to think that they never make time to hold hands...

Is this how Adam feels when God first touches his fingertips, she wonders. How Elliott feels when ET touches his alien fingertips to his? When someone's fingers fit the spaces between someone else's? Will there be a day when, sexual innuendos aside, Alex's hands speak as much volumes as her back does? Will there come a day when she is older and finds that this line she draws has made her miss so much? [2]

Will it still feel awesome when she is older?

-.-.-.-

Alex wakes her up at four to go back to Borobudur for sunrise watching. She is already in her bomber jacket and has a mug of coffee in hand when Piper rolls off the bed. Her stomach churns uncomfortably, and she speculates if it's because of the ginger drink or the butterflies from all the mellowing down last night.

The short walk to the temple brings them to join a hundred other visitors who are also flocking there. Surrounded by four volcanoes, Borobudur's location on a bedrock hill makes it a perfect location for sunrise watching. Len leaves the two of them to greet a man he has encountered from last night's standing party, and it gives Piper a chance to huddle closer to Alex as the mountain fog rolls in and chilly air wraps its arms around Borobudur.

"Kinda different from the June Gloom," she says, reminded of the bizarre summer days in San Francisco. But of course there is so much to compare between mountain mist and seaside fog. "It's colder, but I'll manage."

Alex nods in agreement, but she moves to stand in front of Piper so now she is a step lower than Piper in the stairways. Pressing backward, her back bumps against Piper's front. She takes both of Piper hands and shoves them inside the pockets of her bomber jacket, fingers entwined with Piper's equally cold ones.

Alex looks up at her and grins. "Better?"

Her mind wolf-whistles. _When did you kidnap the real Alex Vause and replace her with this alien ball of PDA, self?_

Ignoring her mind's taunt, she rests her chin on the crown of Alex's head. "Much."

Sunrise breaks in the horizon, painting a red dawn and chasing away mountain mist. Around them, silhouettes of the Buddha statues and stupas stand in contrast against the white, red, and blue canvas of the sky. Around them, people start taking pictures of the sky, the temple, and themselves. They are the only people who don't take pictures, Piper thinks.

Alex looks up at her again. "Wanna take a picture?"

It is not everyday she can witness the birth of the world in Borobudur, but it is also not everyday Alex is, as her mind says, a giant ball of PDA. And Alex's back is warm against her and Alex's fingers are comforting against her and Alex's Chanel No. 5 is light and sweet in her nostrils. Should she? Should she not? "Nope," she ends up replying. "Right now I'll just practice what you've always preached: _carpe_ the hell of the damn _diem_."

Alex tips her head back further to kiss Piper's chin. "Smart girl."

They leave Borobudur after the sunrise watching and a quick breakfast of coffee and toast, and Piper's stomach churns even worse. Alex even asks her twice if she needs to go back to Plataran instead of going according to their plan to see the palace of the Yogyakarta Sultanate.

Halfway through the one-hour drive to Yogyakarta, though, she turns to Alex and grabs her arm so hard it makes Alex wince.

"I need to go to the restroom," she gasps out.

"What?" Alex looks around them. "We're on the road."

"Find a gas station or a restaurant or whatever."

"But—"

"I. Need. The. Restroom," she hisses to Alex's face, gritting her teeth against the waves of nausea in her stomach.

Their driver pulls off the road and stops in front of a random house. He makes a motion with his hand for Piper to follow him. He knocks on the door and asks the residents if Piper can use their bathroom. He also helps explain her situation, and Piper can't hold back the gush of many thank yous she throws at the residents and him.

Alex tails behind her in the direction of the bathroom at the end of the house. Like many houses in rural Java, the house has its bathroom separate from the main building—she will ask Len why later. Next to a water well, there is a dirty hut with a plastic water container and a squat toilet, and there is a big ventilation space between the walls and the thatched roof. Piper wants to smack her own forehead at the whole misfortune. _Why me_, she bemoans. _Why today of all days?_

As if it is not enough, she soon hears children's ruckus and giggles from the outside. They are then followed by a firm yell of _Hey, no peeping!_—Alex's—and merry laughter and repeated shouts of _londo_, Javanese for people of Caucasian descent—Len has told her once. Her professors in Smith must also find it hilarious that she, a member of the whites who often see non-whites as exotic beings, is now a fascinating alien—a fascinating alien who poops.

Alex is waiting for her by a jackfruit tree by the time she is done with her embarrassing pooping business. "You okay?" she asks, but even she can't seem to decide between hiding her mirth at the memory of peeping children and sympathizing with Piper's misery.

"No," she groans, dropping her forehead onto Alex's shoulder. "Kill me."

"Later. With many, many orgasms." Her words hold no assurance, but the way she rubs Piper's back soothes the sting. "We're going back."

"Wha—no. I want to see the palace."

"The fucking palace will still be there for years to come. You, on the other hand, need to see a doctor."

"But—"

"Piper," Alex calls, this time with more warning in her voice.

She sighs. They both know Alex is right, anyway. "Okay."

True to her worst fear, the doctor in the hospital near Plataran confirms that she has contracted gastroenteritis. Stomach flu, the grandmother-like doctor repeats in plain English, and it rewards Piper with a heap of medicine to take and a three-day bed rest order. She is really, really close to bursting into tears of disappointment by the time the doctor has finished writing her prescription.

_Great_, she whines. _First time getting sick this year, and I'm in the middle of what's supposed to be a fantastic adventure, surrounded by people who now think I'm some kind of female Tywin Lannister. _[3]

In the middle of the rolls of nausea, toilet calls, and cold sweating, she goes back and fro from the state of dozing off and awake, and at two in the morning, she dazedly hears Alex speak on the phone again. _Give me three days and I'll see you in Bali,_ she hears. Surely it is not her mom, Piper thinks. Work, then? Is it Jack? Or Fahri? Does that mean they have to go back to Bali? Oh, and will Alex still stuff her hands into the pockets of her jacket and force-feed her chicken porridge and remind her to drink water to prevent dehydration? Or will she have to have another conversation with Alex's back?

Her eyes are heavy and there are gentle fingers shifting through her hair, and soon she slips back into sleep again.

In the morning, Alex opens all the wooden windows in their bungalow, and with hazy eyes Piper sees Mount Merapi, one of the four mountains surrounding Borobudur. Its name itself means 'the mount of fire' in Javanese in the distance, and it makes her wonder if Alex does have a fascination with volcanoes. Is it because Alex is really drawn to disasters? [4] Or is it because, like Alex says about geniuses, beautiful disasters attract each other?

But Alex really is a beautiful disaster, she muses, with her tongue and fingers all in the right spots and inside her—oh god, how they feel _inside_ her. She jerks unconsciously at that thought, and Alex holds her and shusses in her ears. No, damn it. She does not want to be held and shussed. She wants Alex to be passionate and lecherous and horny, but she is too weak and can't do anything, let alone tell Alex. Damn gastroenteritis. Damn stupid gastroenteritis.

She wakes up again in the afternoon, this time with her head on Alex's lap and Alex reading a book over her head. When and how, she does not know. Not interested to know, even. She yawns, stretching her legs to rid her body of the sluggishness.

Alex closes her book and sets it aside. "How are we feeling today?"

"We are feeling crappy and shitty today," she mumbles, nuzzling Alex's hip and clutching onto one of her legs with all her limbs like a mutant orangutan. "Is it raining outside? I like the scent of the earth after the rain."

"It's called petrichor."

"Okay." She nods. "I like petrichor." Then she adds—as an afterthought, "I like your scent, too."

"You're funny when you're delirious." Alex's chuckle is not unkind, though. "Do not go gentle into that crap and shit, kid. Rage, rage against the virus." [5]

Dare she says she has rubbed off on the jerk now that said jerk has quoted more poem lines? This is not a person who reads Sherlock Holmes only because she wants to know how law enforcement officers think, right? This is now a person who reads poems because Piper does so, right?

Alex slides lower so that now Piper's face is burrowed in her stomach. She squirms a little when Piper mouths the thin fabric of her shirt over the skin.

"You're really eating well," she says, poking at Alex's stomach and waist.

"What?"

"That call? From your mom, I think? You told her you're eating well."

Beneath her cheek, Alex's abdomen tenses for a brief moment. The tension is released next with a soft huff. "Yeah."

"And if you're not, tell her I'll kick your ass."

Alex's laughter is both strained and amused. "Why don't you tell her yourself next time?"

"Really?" She raises her head to look at Alex. "You'll let me do that?"

"Yeah." Alex's hand returns to her hair, combing and untangling sweat-mated blond strands. She repeats it, more to herself than to Piper, "Yeah."

Piper lays her head back on Alex's stomach. "What's gonna happen if I touch your bellybutton?"

"What?"

"You know, the stuff about touching the Buddha's bellybutton? Do you think I can make a wish too if I touch your bellybutton?" Her hand is already slipping underneath Alex's shirt.

"Pipes," Alex warns.

"Mm-hmm." She lifts the shirt higher, exposing pale skin and cute—_cute!_—bellybutton. "What should I wish for, Al? Tell me." She presses her lips to Alex's stomach and opens her mouth to let the tip of her tongue circle Alex's bellybutton. She then drags her mouth to the rise of Alex's hipbone, nipping here and there, teething here and there. Alex tastes good. She always does. Mmmmm.

"Piper," Alex calls once again, firmer but not before giving in to a shudder that runs through her body. She pulls down her shirt and adjusts Piper's head on the pillow next to her. "Shut up and sleep."

"You're no fun," she whines petulantly and turns around, her back to Alex. Still, she looks over her shoulder. "Are you gonna see the palace without me?"

She doesn't get any answer, but a minute later a warm body presses onto her back, an arm circles her waist, and another slides under her head.

"Alex," she pauses to ponder for a moment, "are we spooning?"

She feels a kiss on her fish tattoo and a low chuckle that reverberates from Alex's body to hers. "Yes, my little spoon. Your big spoon is spooning you to a spoon heaven."

"Okay." She is quiet for some time. "Is there such heaven?"

"Just make a wish to get well soon, kid."

Ah yes. The wish. She has not used it. So yeah. Dear Yahweh, Jesus, Lord Buddha, Shiva, drugs god, whoever listens, please. She just wants to get well soon so Alex can stop being not horny.

_Because ever since the waterfall jump, you've learned that you don't know how to handle a not horny Alex?_ her mind, strangely unaffected by her delirium, asks.

She also wishes that her mind would suffer from something more terrible than gastroenteritis.

-.-.-.-

The next day turns out to be a hallelujah day.

Whoever listens to her apparently has taken pity on her and granted her wish, because Piper wakes up at near midday feeling much better than the days before. She still tastes sandpaper in her mouth and her head still feels a bit heavy, but her stomach has stopped imitating New England hurricanes and being best buddies with the toilet. She wants to share the hallelujah with Alex, but the sound of running water from the bathroom tells her that it must wait.

She looks outside the window, finding the conical silhouette of Borobudur in the middle of the sprinkle curtain and mist. "Thanks, buddy," she murmurs. Miracle or not, it is just nice to get her wish granted.

Alex's phone, it seems, always has the perfect timing to break her reverie.

Curious, she grabs and flips it open. Her eyes widen as she reads the caller ID: 'Mom.' An em to a fucking oh to another fucking em. A simple, monosyllabic word yet a word that probably means this whole world and beyond to Alex. Shit. Should she take the call? Should she?

She gulps, scrambling to sit and lean against the headboard. "Hello?"

"Hey, brat! You were right. Palm Beach _is_ fantastic! Thank you for the present. If only you were here, I'll fucking kiss you to your early grave."

Should she laugh? Should she reply with another joke? Should she just tell Alex's mom that this is not her brat whom she will fucking kiss to her early grave?

"Are you still in Jakarta?"

"Uhm—Mrs Vause? Alex is unavailable at the moment. She—she's taking a shower." _Smart, Chapman. Very smart. Even your stuttering is smart._ "Uhm—I can take your message." The rising intonation at the end makes it sound like a question instead, and she internally winces.

It is quiet at the other end of the line for some time, and Piper unknowingly holds her breath. Then the woman speaks again, "Who's this?"

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She tries again, throat dry and tight. "I'm Piper," she says. "I'm—uh—Alex's friend." She winces again at that, and probably this time Alex's mom can hear the wince across the Pacific.

There's another silence, and then comes a neutral greeting: "Hello, Piper."

The breath she has been holding leaves her lungs in a whoosh. "Hello, Mrs Vause. Nice to meet you."

"Oh shut it, girl. Call me Diane."

"Yes, Mrs Va—Diane, I mean."

A snort. And a laugh. Piper imagines that Diane Vause laughs the way Alex does: it starts with the right corner of her mouth curling upward, forming that Vausian smirk, then the left corner follows, and a smile breaks on her face and turns into a grin and the corners of her eyes will crinkle, and only after the hilarity reaches her eyes then she will laugh, a little nasal and a little throaty, deep and chest-rumbling and holding nothing back. Such a beautiful laugh. Such a beautiful laugh from a beautiful person.

_I'm not even sure you're still talking about Vause the Elder_, her mind leers.

_Shut up, traitor._

"How are you, Piper? Having fun in Indonesia? I heard from Alex it's amazing." Another laugh. "Although with that kid, an explanatory adjective is usually preceded by several expletives."

She knows it well, too.

"So, Piper... a-stranger-walks-into-a-bar kinda chance meeting, right?"

She suddenly has the urge to bury her head in the ground—that, or kick Alex so hard she will land somewhere in the middle of the Taklamakan.

Speaking of the devil, Alex exits the bathroom, clad in a bathrobe and toweling her wet hair, right before Piper responses to Diane Vause's teasing. _Your mom_, she points at the phone and mouths to Alex, who simply raises her eyebrows. _Go on_, Alex mouths back.

"Uhm—Diane, Alex is here. Hold on."

"Oh no, no, no, Piper. It's fine. Just tell the brat I say hi, okay?"

She looks at Alex, who has taken a seat next to her on the bed. Her face remains neutral as she watches Piper talk with her mom. Piper wonders if Alex is waiting for a wrong reply or a wrong timing so that _she_ can kick her all the way to the Taklamakan instead.

"Well, I gotta go now. It's been a long day in the sun here, too, and an old lady needs her beauty sleep." A chuckle. "Have a great day, you two."

"Have a great day, Diane."

Once again Piper is left to holding her breath, this time in anticipation of how Alex will react. Alex is quiet for a while, looking at the now drizzles outside instead of at Piper. Then she hears an amused snort.

"On a first name basis with my mom already?"

She punches Alex in the arm, half out of reflex and half out of relief. "Got a problem with that, _brat_?"

"That wicked witch." Alex rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue. "You see, I think I shouldn't go to the bathroom at all. Whenever I do, you're doing weird things."

She hands the phone to Alex. "Sorry. I shouldn't have got that call."

Alex shrugs. "At least you're feeling better now."

"Perhaps it's because your mom isn't a wicked witch." She grins. "Perhaps she's a fairy godmother who grants wishes."

Alex's smile is at the same time proud and tender and distant. "Yeah," she mumbles absent-mindedly. "She's kinda awesome like that." Looking away, she stands and walks to the closet to get a pair of yoga pants and a black shirt. "Well," she starts, buttoning her shirt, "let's give you a bath now."

She could have faked an offended reply, or she could have used the opportunity to lure Alex to shower sex. Instead, she stands and walks past Alex. Alex's mom tells her to have fun, doesn't she? She has lost her chance because of the stupid sickness. But not today. Today she has the Buddha of Borobudur and a fairy godmother somewhere in Florida to watch over her. Today nothing can go wrong.

Ignoring Alex's bewildered shout of her name, she trots down the few stairs of their bungalow's porch into the open front yard. Shower! Rain shower! Almost like her happy place, but more natural! The rain feels good on her skin, making her bide goodbye to slick, sticky sweat. Alex shakes her head, muttering, _Once five-and-a-half, always five-and-a-half,_ but she ends up joining. The second her steps bring her to stand beside Piper, the gloomy sky splits open with thunders in the distance. The temple and paddy fields down the hill glow yellow, illuminated by the lightning, and Piper has never seen any more scenic rain, not even in Bali.

"Happy now?" Alex half shouts, hands on the hips. "You're such a fucking kid."

She grins widely at that. "In every adult dwells a child, you know." The last time they were soaked to the bone like this, it ended up with them being two colossal idiots giving each other silent treatment. Well, not today. Today is a hallelujah day. "Do you know what happens when two strangers walk into a bar?"

Alex raises her eyebrows, a gesture of asking a question.

"One will order a margarita, and the other will pick on her for having a half-assed resume." She laughs at her own joke. Not funny, she knows, but hey, when even Alex's mom knows it, it means _something_, right?

Hair mated to her head and shoulders and clothes to her skin, she now feels the chill from the rain and the mountains more intensely. Time to get inside before her delirium returns with a vengeance, she decides. "Let's go back." She tugs at Alex's hand, but she almost loses her balance as her pulling meets an immovable Alex. She turns around, frowning, and is about to ask.

The way Alex stands still at the end of the front yard, her head tilted up to look at the sky it reminds Piper of that poem about Adam's decent from the Garden of Eden, [6] her dark figure a stark contrast against the gold and green paddy fields down the hill and Borobudur's many conical stupas and the four mountains, makes her a lone focal point as if in a deep space filming technique.

"Alex?"

Thunder in the distance.

Alex turns to face her. Her mouth opens and moves, but her voice is too soft to be heard. Piper cups a palm to her ear to indicate she needs Alex to repeat it.

"I—"

Thunder in the distance, angry.

"—you."

Thunder in Alex's eyes, even angrier, a harsh self-scolding for that brief lapse of judgment.

Piper waits for another repeat—one that never comes.

It is a hallelujah day, and from Alex's lips she should draw a hallelujah... right?

Alex shakes her head and lowers her gaze, and when she raises her head not too long afterward, she is once more a barbed, thorny, canon-equipped shield, barricade, wall.

"Alex?"

"It's nothing," she says, voice falling flat and growing cold. "Let's just go back."

Thunder, Piper hears. Thunder everywhere.

-.-.-.-

* * *

[1] From Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's _The Valley of Fear_: "Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself, but talent instantly recognizes genius."

[2] From TV!_Orange_ 1x08.

[3] In George R.R. Martin's _A Clash of Kings_ (published in 1998), it's a common joke in Westeros that Tywin Lannister "shits gold." It is also mentioned by Tyrion in _A Storm of Swords_ (2001).

[4] See chapter 9.

[5] A reference to Dylan Thomas' _Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night_.

[6] See chapter 8.


End file.
